


Song as Old as Rhyme

by Wizards_Pupil



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Adventure, Anal Sex, Angst, Beauty and the Beast, Blue mountains, Bofur and Bilbo BFF's, Curses, Dragons, Dwarves, Dwori - Freeform, Erebor, Hobbits, M/M, Magic, Romance, Smut, Thilbo, bagginshield, shire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 86,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizards_Pupil/pseuds/Wizards_Pupil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occasionally fairy tales get the story wrong-even Tales as old as time.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins joined the court of the dwarves to save the life of someone he loves. Now he finds himself in the middle of a plot to overthrow the throne, dwarves who seem intent on playing matchmakers, and meddlesome wizards. And nobody said anything about dragons.</p><p>A completely different take on Beauty and the Beast with dwarves, Hobbits, wizards, and of course, a dragon or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Far too Much to Take In

**Author's Note:**

> Because this is AU I've fiddled with the ages of a lot of people, and I've put people alive at times that they wouldn't be. I'm aware of the fact, and I'm just using Hobbit's I'm particularly fond of.

  
_In the circle of life_   
_It's the wheel of fortune_   
_It's the leap of faith_   
_It's the band of hope_   
_Till we find our place_   
_On the path unwinding_   
_In the circle, the circle of life_   


_-The Circle of Life (Lion King)_

* * *

Bilbo propped his pack over his shoulder and took off down the path from Bag End with a smile on his face and a book in his hands. The latest work from Ori of Ri was as riveting as his others had been. The writer always told tales of the most fantastic adventures. Usually about far off places, heroic deeds, Princes in disguise, and this one even had a dragon!

The hobbit went down the path without glancing up from the pages that had so captured his attention. He knew where he was going and he didn’t need to look to be sure he was going there correctly.

“Where is that boy off to this time?” One of the Buffons huffed as Bilbo passed. He ignored the comment and focused on what the young prince was telling the thief to do. The book was more fun than his world, and it was hardly worth leaving to talk to a Buffon. Besides, Bilbo knew what the Hobbit would say, and none of it was something Bilbo wanted to hear.

He was perfectly aware that his obsession with reading adventure stories and fantasies was odd. He knew that being a bachelor at his age was odd. He knew that caring for a young cousin when he wasn’t the closest family member to the youngling was odd.

He’d simply been an odd outcast all his life. He didn’t see why it should start to matter now.

Besides, this was one of the only times he had to read. What, with caring for Frodo and tending to the young Hobbit’s lessons, there was precious little free time.

“Master Baggins!” Hamfast called from his perch at the front of his house. Bilbo folded the corner of his page and shut his book before slipping it into his pocket.

“Hello, Hamfast. Is my Frodo around back?” The elderly Hobbit nodded his head and made to stand up stiffly. Bilbo gave his head a frantic shake.

“Oh, don’t stand up! I’ll get him. He’s with Sam, of course?” Hamfast settled down again and smiled.

“Sam was showing him how to properly trim a bush.” Bilbo thanked the gardener once again before walking around the Hobbit hole.

Frodo and Sam were at the far end of the well tended garden, fussing over a potato plant. Sam had a spade in his hand and he was showing Frodo how to smooth the dirt around the tiny plant. Frodo laughed at something the other Hobbit said and Bilbo’s lifted at the sound. Drogo had been a dear friend, and cousin. He could see so much of him in Frodo, especially when he laughed. Primula was obvious in his adventurous nature, and carefree curiosity. Losing the two much loved cousins to drowning had been terrible, Frodo being left behind had been even worse. It hadn't been a hard decision at all for Bilbo to take over his care. Bag End was large, and very empty without Bilbo's parents. Bungo had built it for a family, and the halls needed children.

“Frodo lad, come along.” Bilbo called out after a moment. Frodo looked up from the plant in surprise and promptly smiled.

“Oh! Is it time for dinner already?” He scrambled up and made his way over to Bilbo, being extra careful of the plants.

“Yes.” Bilbo took his cousin’s hand and looked over to Sam who was finishing up planting the potatoes.

“Sam, would you care to come for dinner? We’re having mushroom soup.” Sam’s eyes lit up like the Party tree at Yuletide and he nodded his head frantically.

“Very much, if it’s not too much trouble.” Bilbo smiled and shook his head.

“No trouble at all. I’ve made enough.”

“Sam! Sam! Where is my Sam?!” The frantic voice broke through the garden and made Bilbo still, his hand tightening around Frodo’s on reflex. Hamfast shuffled around the back of the Hobbit hole and cried out when he saw his son. He bolted towards him as fast as his legs would carry him and scooped him up, clutching him close to his chest.

“Hamfast?” Bilbo asked, tugging Frodo nearer. Shouts rose up from the front of the Hobbit hole and Bilbo felt his stomach turn. Surely it wasn’t time again already? It had scarcely been six months since the last!

“Bring forth all the Hobbits!” The voice demanded from the other side of the house. Bilbo shuddered and immediately bent down to scoop up Frodo, who went without a word of complaint.

Hamfast made a strangled noise and Bilbo squared his shoulders. They had not been picked yet, they would surely not be picked this time. It would be fine. It would all be just fine.

He held Frodo close, cherishing the feel of the Hobbit lad’s soft curls brushing against his chin. The walk around the Hobbit Hole was ruthlessly short, and he emerged on the other side to see the dwarf chieftains counting everyone off their roster.

“Bilbo and Frodo Baggins present.” Bilbo called out before taking a spot beside Saradoc and Esmerelda. She had little Merry in her hand who was watching the proceedings with great interest. One of the dwarfs checked their names off the list. Another dwarf came along behind him and passed out slips of folded paper that had numbers written on them. Bilbo looked at his own, 15, and glanced at Frodo’s, 42.

Once every Hobbit had been counted, and given a slip of paper a dwarf with a tattooed head stepped forward. He was taller than any of the other dwarfs and had a large hammer strapped across his broad back. “All know why we are here. Each Hobbit has been given a number. The Hobbit whose number is chosen will step forward and accompany us back to our Lord.”

It was a practice that had occurred since Bilbo himself was a young Hobbit. Back then the drawing had happened once every three years. In the last two years it had occurred yearly, and now it looked like it would be every six months. The dwarfs from the Blue mountains would come over to the Shire and hold a lottery. The ‘winner’ would be taken back to the Blue Mountains to the ‘Lord’ and become his ‘companion.’ None of the Hobbits were ever seen from again. Only single Hobbits were permitted to be part of the lottery. They wrote letters to their kin and friends, describing beautiful places and friendly places, but the lettes eventually stopped.

And no one knew why. It was a fair journey to the Blue Mountains, and a treacherous road. Most Hobbits blamed the silence of the Hobbit's on that.

The Blue Mountains had been allies of the Shire for generations beyond count. They protected the small countries borders and provided relief whenever it was needed. They were never cruel, and they’re trade helped the Shire to prosper. They could hardly deny them the right to a companion.

The dwarf pulled a slip of paper from a bag that another dwarf had and held it to the air dramatically.

“42!” He called out. Bilbo’s breath flooded out of him as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Frodo shook in his arms and grasped his number tightly. Bilbo’s heart grew cold as all the blood left his face.

Bilbo reacted without further thought. He snatched Frodo’s number away and replaced it with his own before passing a very confused, and frightened, Bilbo off to Saradoc. “Look after him.” Bilbo ordered before slipping through the crowd and raising the slip of paper.

“It’s mine!” He called out. The dwarfs immediately looked his way. Two of them flanked him on either side while the tall, nearly bald dwarf sized him up. He apparently liked what he saw as he grinned.

“Very well. Make ready, Hobbit. We leave at sunset.”

“Bilbo.” The dwarf raised his eyebrows at the impetuous statement but Bilbo didn’t back down. He squared his shoulders and stood as tall as hi short frame would allow. “My name is Bilbo, sir.”

“Very well, Bilbo. We will escort you to the Blue Mountains at sunset.” He motioned to the two dwarfs at Bilbo’s side. “Fíli, Kíli, aid him with any possession he has.” The two dwarfs nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.” Bilbo turned and ignored the whispers rising up around him. He had eyes only for his young cousin who looked about to cry. The Hobbit lad had already shed far too many tears in his young life. Bilbo hated to be the cause of more. He gently took Frodo back from Saradoc and closed his eyes as Frodo wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s neck a little too tightly. “Come along then, my little merry lad. I’ve got to pack and you have mushrooms to eat. Hamfast, Saradoc, come along please?”

He turned and made his way down the dirt path to Bag End. Hamfast held the door open for him and the Hobbits and two dwarfs made their way inside. The soup simmered in the fireplace and the smell of it had Bilbo’s stomach rumbling. There would be no time for mushroom soup right now.

Bilbo set Frodo down and freed his neck from the Hobbitlings tight hold. “Run along and have a bite to eat. Sam will join you and I’ll be there in just a bit.” The Gamgee looked at his father uncertainly before following Frodo to the waiting food. Bilbo waited for a moment before motioning for Hamfast, Saradoc, and the two dwarfs to follow him.

“Right,what will I need to take?” He asked the shorter, blond dwarf. “And what was your name?”

“Fíli. Clothing, and any trinkets to which you are attached. You won’t be back for at least six months, so enough to last you.”

Bilbo found that rather cruel. Six months indeed. No one returned, it was unnecessary to taunt him with the idea of returning.

“Okay then.” He set about grabbing a few of his favorite clothing items as well as the sketches of his parents from his bedroom. “Saradoc, I’m afraid I must ask you to look after Frodo again, until he comes of age.”

Saradoc nodded his head gravely, a pain deep in his eyes that turned Bilbo’s stomach. There was too much pain around him. “Aye. I shall treat him as my own. Merry will be glad for his company.” Bilbo’s stomach flooded with guilt and his chest tightened at the thought of all the people he was leaving. His eyes shot back and forth between the two Hobbits. Saradoc looking so sad and broken, and Hamfast valiantly trying not to cry. These were his two dearest friends. For them, and the little Hobbits sitting in his dining room, Bilbo couldn’t focus on what was wrong.

Bilbo grabbed a pile of papers from the bottom of his writing desk and handed them to Saradoc, before pulling a key from his pocket and pressing it into Hamfast’s hand. “This,” he said to Saradoc, “is the deed to Bag End. See to it that Frodo inherits it. Do not let Lobelia try and claim it.” He turned to Hamfast who looked uncertain what to do with the key. “I’ll need you to take care of it in the mean time. I’m afraid Frodo has a good many years before he’s old enough.”

He finished up his packing feeling oddly numb. There was far too much to take, and not enough time to decide what would be needed. He ended up with a few clothes, a couple of blankets, his sketches, three books, a blank notebook, and a few apples. He handed the items off to Kíli, the taller dwarf with brown-hair and almost no beard, and went to his dining room.

“Up to your standards, Frodo?” Bilbo inquired merrily as he served his cousin another bowl full. Frodo nodded his head and grinned.

“Delicious.” Bilbo sat next to him and looped his arm around the back of his chair. There was nothing he could say. No comfort he could offer the Hobbitling other than the promise that he would love him and that none would know he was meant to have gone.

Saradoc and Hamfast joined them quickly, and Bilbo even served Fíli and Kíli a bowl of the soup. The time passed far too quickly and before Bilbo quite knew it was happening, it was time to leave.

“No!” Frodo cried out when Bilbo stood up.

“Frodo my lad-” Bilbo started but he was cut off by Frodo grabbing the nearest jar and hurling it at the wall.

“Frodo!” Bilbo snapped. Frodo turned towards him defiantly, his hands on his hips and his bottom lip stuck out. "That's enough!" Bilbo wasn't sure how he had been forced into the role of the reasonable adult in this ridiculous situation, but he knew he was the one that was going to have to fill it.

He reached out to Frodo and pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around Frood and holding him close. Frodo froze at the unexpected contact for a second before grabbing him back, breaking down and crying over what had and was transpiring. Bilbo didn't say anything, he simply held him and let him cry while he tried valiantly not to.

He bent his head over his little cousin’s, letting all his protective instincts fill him up. He couldn't let Frodo get hurt, he was his responsibility. He murmured softly in his ear, promises of love and returning and that Frodo would never be alone but that he was going to have to be a big boy because Bilbo had to go see the dwarves for a while. Finally Bilbo pulled back, painfully aware of the two dwarves that were standing behind him. He glanced at each of his friends before letting his eyes linger on Frodo’s large blue ones.

He ruffled his cousin’s hair and pinched his cheek before taking up his walking stick and following the two dwarves outside. There were two other dwarves waiting for them, the tall, tattooed dwarf and a ginger dwarf with several braids in his impressive beard.

“Glóin at your service.” The dwarf said with a bow. Bilbo gripped his stick and bowed in return.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” Dwalin turned and led the way forward, the other dwarf falling into step behind him.

They walked for hours into the night until they had left the Shire behind. When at last they set up a camp Bilbo set out his bed roll near the fire, but away from the other dwarves. He laid his blanket out and set his pack beside his pillow. Bilbo then curled up under the blanket, closed his eyes, and bit his lip until it bled.


	2. Have you heard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fixed it so you can run your mouse over the khuzdul lines and it'll give you a translation. (Unlike poor Bilbo who has no idea what's going on.) For all my smart phone/table people, the translations are at the bottom of the page.

  
_It's a rumor,_   
_A legend,_   
_A mystery!_   
_Something whispered in an alleyway_   
_Or through a crack!_   
_It's a rumour_   
_That's part of our history._   


_-A Rumor in St. Petersburg (Anastasia)_

* * *

 

Bilbo quickly discovered that the road to the Blue Mountains was a lot farther than it looked. He was grateful for the ponies (his was named Myrtle and they’d become fast friends) or his feet would have been miserable. Dwarves also detested quiet walking and frequently broke out in stories and songs. The two younger dwarves, Fíli and Kíli, were pranksters by nature. While Fíli was older and more mature, it merely meant he was more conniving with his pranking. Kíli on the other hand was a big, obvious ball of chaotic energy. He laughed frequently and loudly, and insisted all calling Bilbo ‘Mr. Boggins.”

And everyone did things to make the Hobbit feel more at ease. They carried hankies (which he had forgotten to pack) smoked pipeweed, and had even gone so far as to pick flowers for the campsite.

They also served all seven Hobbit meals a day. Breakfast was served sitting and usually consisted of eggs, toast, and tea. Second Breakfast was eaten on the road and consisted of half buttered crumpets and sausages stuffed in pockets. Elevenses varied every day, they were breads, cheeses, or fruit. Fíli and Kíli clearly liked that meal best, and it made something ache deep in Bilbo’s chest at how excited they were for the tossing of food. Elevenses had always been Pippin’s favorite meal. Luncheon they all took sitting down, and it was sandwiches and tarts. Some of the best tarts that Bilbo had ever had. Tea was served while they gave their horses a water break, and always came with delightful pastries that Bilbo couldn’t figure out how they traveled with.

Dinner was served when it started to get dark and was whatever sandwiches they hadn’t eaten for luncheon. Supper was served after they set up camp and was made from whatever Dwalin had managed to hunt.

Every act touched his heart, and made him wonder at their kindness. He had never been treated so well.

Bilbo wasn’t frightened of whatever awaited in the quickly approaching Blue Mountain, but he still didn’t believe he’d be able to leave after six months. His companions spoke constantly of the beauty of the halls and the vast wealth that abided in them.

“You’ll see, Master Baggins, the floors are rivers of gold.” Dwalin had rumbled. Fíli and Kíli had both nodded with a laugh.

“You’ll probably see Our Great Grandpa swimming around in it.” Fíli said. Glóin snorted.

“Aye, King Thror does cherish his gold.” King? Fíli and Kíli were of the royal line?” Bilbo gaped and stared at the two brothers. They were princes? The rowdy trouble makers? He felt sorry for their nannies.

“Is Thror who I’m being taken to?” Bilbo finally managed. Glóin was trying not to laugh at the way he was blatantly goggling the princes.

Kíli gave his head a quick shook. “Oh no, not Thror.” He shuddered as if that thought were vile. “Mahal no. You’re going to Uncle.”

“A far more fun fate.” Fíli assured.

Bilbo didn’t reply.

-{}-{o}-{}-

 

Myrtle slowed when they passed the gates, and Bilbo could not fault her. The gates were huge, not even from a Hobbit perspective. Bilbo had a feeling that even a giant would have felt dwarfed by the doors.

That was funny but Bilbo couldn’t laugh. He couldn’t even see the top of the gates as he passed through them. Dwalin lead the way confidently along the streets and Bilbo couldn’t help but notice how much everyone stared at him.

They stared at him with obvious hope, and Bilbo had no idea what to make of that. The path that cut through the city built on and in the mountain, was made of several different color stones that made rune designs. Bilbo itched to know what they meant but he couldn’t make heads or tales of them.

Then they actually entered the mountain, and Bilbo decided he had _never_ felt so small in all his life. There was no other place in the world, surely, that had such marvelous halls. They were tall, seemingly infinite in their height, and stretched up to starlight. The smoothed marble and granite and other stone caught the star light and reflected it to other pillars, lighting the entire hall in an otherworldly glow. Every single pillar was intricately designed and three times the length of Myrtle.

Bilbo couldn’t help but feel like an ant that had wandered into a Hobbit hole.

“We’ll take you to your room.” Fíli offered, hopping off his own pony and helping Bilbo off Myrtle. Kíli came from the other side, already carrying some of his supplies. Bilbo grabbed the remaining items and followed the dwarf princes down a dozen hallways that led them deep into the mountain and left Bilbo feeling dizzy.

They finally stopped in front of a green stone door that had the image of a tree carved to the front. Bilbo smiled at the sight of it and felt the tightness in his chest loosen a bit. It was bigger than Biblo had expected, and warm. There was a large fireplace against the far wall, a bed on the left, and a desk on the right. A wardrobe sat against the wall with the door, and there was another door by the fireplace.

“That’s the bathroom.” Kíli informed him with a grin. He set the halflings luggage down and backed out of the room with his brother. “Servants will be in shortly to help tend you.”

Servants? Good lord, Bilbo was going to have _servants_?

“What time will I meet your Uncle?”

“Dinner.” Fíli answered quickly. “It’ll be in two hours. That’ll be enough time for you to bathe and the servants to dress you appropriately.” He waved  a farewell and Bilbo suddenly found himself alone and unsure of what to do. He could unpack, but the thought of doing that made his stomach turn. He couldn’t bathe until the servants brought water.

Bilbo sat down on the bed, which was softer than any in the Shire and looked around. He folded his hands in his lap and started when they brushed across a lump in his pocket. He pulled the book he’d quite forgotten about out and smiled at it.

At least he had something to entertain himself with.

He flipped the book open and scooted back on the bed. He let the adventure recapture his attention and became enraptured by the young thief who was falling for his prince.

“Master Baggins?” A gentle touch to his arm brought Bilbo’s attention away from the book with a squeak. The dwarf laughed and clapped his gloved hands together before bowing.

“I’m sorry, Master Baggins.” He chuckled before straightening. He was shorter than Fíli and Kíli and was clothed in brown leathers and wool. He had a cap on his head that stuck out on the sides and looked warm. His hair was separated into three braids and he didn’t wear any obvious beads in them. He had some sort of tooth or claw in his left ear but wore no other jewelry.

“Please, call me Bilbo. All this ‘Master Baggins’ stuff is making my head spin.” The dwarf smiled and nodded his head, causing his mustache to twitch.

“Alright. I’m Bofur.” He grinned and looked over his shoulder to beckon in two other dwarfs. One was older with his hair pulled back and on top of his head in several intricate braids, the other was a bit wild looking. He had gray, black, and white hair that was mostly unkempt and he wore worn leather clothing. The notable thing about him was the axe tip sticking out of his head though, and Bilbo was having a hard time looking around it.

“This is Dori,” he indicated the heavily braided dwarf who smiled politely. “And this is Bifur, my cousin.”

“Gamut baknd.” Bifur barked and Bilbo nearly jumped. Bofur smiled at his cousin indulgently for a moment while he made some obscure gesture with his arm.

“He said ‘Good morning.” Bofur informed him after a moment. “We’ll” he indicated Bifur and himself, “draw your bath while Dori sets your clothes out.” Bofur winked. “He is looking forward to meeting you.”

“I think blue.” Dori said after a long quiet moment in which he studied a very uncomfortable Bilbo. “It’ll make your eyes dazzling.” Bilbo flushed and swallowed thickly. The dwarf cocked his head and considered him again. “Gold as well. It’ll make your hair look even more golden.” The dwarf nodded his head, apparently decided, and wandered off towards the wardrobe.

“Bilbo?” Bofur popped his head out of the bathroom and beckoned the Hobbit forward. Bilbo went unquestioningly and only shuddered a little when Bofur shut the door again.

“Shulkur.” Bifur mused, running his hand around in the large, marble tub. It was already full of water and bubbles. The air smelled of lavender and Bilbo felt his shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah, well, water tends to be watery.” Bofur returned before going to Bilbo and pulling off his green traveling jacket. Bilbo started at the unexpected contact and Bofur instantly stepped back and raised both his hands in the air. “Sorry!”

“Oh, no,” Bilbo laughed dryly and shook his head. “It’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting…” He slipped his vest and shirt off and unclasped his belt. Hobbits were not shy creatures, at least not when it came  to bathing. It was loud, messy, and usually quite a happy occasion. Hobbits rarely bathed alone. Water took too long to draw and heat up to waste on an individual. Besides, it was far more fun to have someone to splash with.

Bilbo slipped into the tub and closed his eyes in utter bliss. The water was warm and the bubbles so soft and dear god he had missed being clean. Traveling wasn’t conducive to Hobbit standards of cleanliness.

A surprisingly gentle hand started to rub at his hair and Bilbo’s eyes popped open. Bofur was at the foot of the tub, shuffling through a supply of wash-clothes which meant… Bilbo tipped his head back and sure enough, Bifur was rinsing his hair out. The dwarf looked perfectly happy as he ran his fingers through Bilbo’s locks, gently shampooing the curls. Bilbo shrugged and focused on getting the dirt off his feet. Bofur took his free foot and went at it with a soft washcloth that had Bilbo biting back a giggle.

He was dried off and dressed in smalls and a white shirt before he was brought back out to Dori who had clothes lying all over the bed.

“Perfect, Bofur, you’ll do the hair while I get the rest on, okay?” And then he pulled out a pair of wool pants with beautifully worked leather panels and helped Bilbo into them. He pulled out a hydrangea blue shirt that he called sapphire and a forget-me-not colored weskit that was intricately embroidered  to go with it. They finished it with a gold belt that had what Bilbo recognized as the crest of Durin at it’s center.

Bofur tugged at his hair to get him to stand still while he braided it. Dori handed three beads to the dwarf and Bilbo only saw that they were gold.

“My, you look quite smart.” Dori puffed up visibly and Bilbo smiled at the mothering dwarf. “I’ll just finish it off with…” Dori spun around and trailed off before snatching a cloak lined with white fur up from the bed. “this. Perfect. He will be most pleased.”

“Umm, what exactly...happens at these things?” Bilbo asked quietly. Bofur finished with his hair and stepped around to look at him from the front.

“There’s typically more food than anyone could possibly eat, and a lot of stuffy conversation. You won’t be expected to say much. Thror, Thrain, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli will be the ones who have to talk the most. Everyone else just eats and nods when appropriate.” Dori straightened his cloak and clasped it shut while Bofur spoke.

“Don’t eat until the King has eaten.” He added. “The servants serve from the left and take from the right. Hobbits tend to have splendid manners so you’ll be alright there.”

Bifur garbled something that Bilbo didn’t understand but Bofur nodded in obvious agreement. “Yes, don’t speak until they speak to you.”

Bilbo nodded his head, frantically trying to remember everything they were saying. A knock sounded at the door and Bilbo’s head snapped over to it. He stood frozen for a moment before realizing it was _his_ room and _he_ had to tell other people to come in.

“Enter.” He squeaked. His ears flushed and he swallowed thickly, ignoring Bofur’s cheeky grin and Dori’s sympathetic smile. “Enter.” He said again, in a much more respectable voice. The door swung open and Glóin appeared with a grin.

“Master Bilbo. I’m here to escort you to dinner.”

Bilbo took a terrified step forward and followed the dwarf on feet that, much to his pride, did not tremble.

-{}-{o}-{}-

Glóin confidently led the way to the dining hall and Bilbo found himself fiercely praying that Glóin would be there to guide him back to his chambers because he had no idea where they were at in this over sized castle.

The dining hall was every bit as impressive as the rest of the castle and left Bilbo gaping a bit before he remembered himself and clicked his mouth shut. Fíli and Kíli had already arrived and were sitting near the head of the table. They were both smirking at Bilbo who found he had a very strong urge to stick his tongue out at the lads despite the nearly crippling nerves he was feeling.

He was a Baggins of Bag End. Why on earth was here? How had this even happened?

And what, for the love of Yavanna, did they want with Hobbits?

“Right here, Master Baggins.” Glóin pulled the chair out and Bilbo slipped down in it. He was across from Fíli and Kíli who were both grinning cheekily.

The doors at the end of the hall burst open and all the dwarfs in the room stood at attention. Bilbo stumbled out of his chair, following Fíli and Kíli’s lead, and stood as straight as he possibly could.  He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. The other dwarfs at the table, who he didn’t know, stood up as well.Three servants entered forest and then bowed at the doorway. A moment passed, and then a huge dwarf with a long grey beard covered in gold and jewels. strode into the room. He wore a huge robe and crown, and Bilbo’s head hurt just thinking about it’s weight. The elderly dwarf was followed by another, heavily scarred dwarf with darker grey hair and a smaller crown.

Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat. The third dwarf… he was _majestic_. It was the only word Bilbo could think of to describe him. He had raven hair that had two braids on either side of his head, and a beard that was trimmed short. He had silver beads in his hair and a weskit of dark blue embroidered with silver and black runes. He wore a great silver belt and black breeches embroidered with a shimmery metal that looked like starlight. He wore a fur coat that looked soft and warm to touch, and seemed to have come from some great beast.

His eyes though, they demanded Bilbo’s attention, but he couldn’t look at them for long. They were blue, which wasn’t nearly descriptive enough, but they were piercing and framed by dark lashes. He glanced along the table, coming down the hall with a purposeful stride that spoke of importance and strength. His eyes flashed over Bilbo and in a moment the Hobbit found himself shaken. This was someone of noble lineage. This was royalty.

_This is what warriors are like._

Bilbo kept his eyes downcast, horribly unsure of what he was supposed to do. He fiercely regretted not asking Bofur and Dori more questions.

And why was he here? Would no one explain things properly?

Thror took a seat at the head of the table. Thrain sat at his right and Thorin sat at his left.

In the seat next to Biblo who was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Thror said something in Khuzdul and suddenly there was food flying everywhere. Bilbo froze and gaped as a roll flew past his head.and berries landed on his plate. He was probably gaping like a fool but he couldn’t do anything else.

“Are you not hungry?” The rumbling voice came from his left and made Bilbo start. It was deep and cut straight through his body. He’d never heard a voice like that.

“I’m a Hobbit, we’re always hungry.” Bilbo answered before he looked at the prince. His eyes were even bluer up close, and Biblo found himself grateful for the Sackville-Baggins for the very first time in his life. They’d made him experts at hiding what he was thinking behind a neutral expression. “I simply don’t know how to proceed.” He paused for a moment on how to end his statement. “My liege.”

“Then I offer my services, such as they are.” Thorin raised his hand and a moment later he had loaded Bilbo’s plate with meats, potatoes, cheeses, breads, vegetables, and fruits.

Bilbo managed not to gape like a fool and he was quite proud of himself. “Thank you, Majesty.”

Thorin inclined his head slightly and turned to his own plate which was filled with far more meats. Bilbo picked up the fork furthest out and his knife before cutting a bite off the beef Thorin had given him. There was a faint rumble of Khuzdul coming up and down the table but nothing in western that he could understand.

He looked up to grab his cup and froze. Half the table was staring at him with varying levels of intrigue. Bilbo felt his ears heat and he frantically caught Fíli and Kíli’s eyes. They were both trying not to chuckle.

Bilbo once again felt a strong urge to stick his tongue out at the unhelpful youths.

Instead Bilbo squared his shoulders, swallowed his meat and carefully lifted his glass to his lips. He took a sip and set the glass down before he resumed eating his meal. He kept his eyes on a bare bit of wall behind Fíli and Kíli and hoped he didn’t committing some horrible faux pas before someone sat him down and finally explained everything properly. He still didn’t even know why he was here for goodness sake!

And who was his Lord? Who was the person he would be the ‘companion’ to?

And that was an infuriating word. Companion. What did it even mean? A friend? A servant? A story teller? The male equivalent of a Mistress? Someone to torture?

There had always been rumors in Hobbiton for as long as Bilbo could remember. Because of the secretive nature of the Dwarves and the unknownness of what was being asked of the Hobbits, the rumors tended to tell of dark, depraved acts that were being done to those unfortunate enough to be selected. Bilbo had never believed them, and still didn’t, but the secretiveness was starting to alarm him.

“You must excuse my fellow dwarves.” Thorin murmured suddenly, in the language of the Shire. It was a wonderfully comforting sound that made Bilbo start before he turned to look at the Prince with wide eyes. His anxieties were already lessening. “They are unaccustomed to such a quiet, well behaved Hobbit.”

And that would have puffed Bilbo’s chest up on any other occasion, right now it just annoyed him. What had the other Hobbits done then? _And where were they all?_

“We Baggins pride ourselves on manners. Sire.” Bilbo said after a moment. Thorin nodded his head vaguely, which was something Bilbo hadn’t been aware one could do.

“Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu.” Thrain suddenly barked and Bilbo very nearly jumped in his chair. Thorin stiffened in his own chair and met his father’s gaze unflinchingly.

“Shândab men.” Thorin inclined his head. "Khuzd belkîn, Bilbo Melekûn.”

_Bilbo?_ He recognized that word. That was his name. Oh god, they were talking about him. Thrain didn’t seem to like whatever Thorin had just said. His brow furrowed and he made to speak again. Bilbo fought the urge to cower and hide under the table. 

“Ubdùzh.” Thror warned before picking up his goblet.

Bilbo wasn’t sure, but he felt like something fairly important had just happened. That, and Khuzdul was not a language you wanted yelled at you.

Bilbo lowered his eyes and resumed eating his meal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes in this difficult language are my own. If you spot any errors, let me know and I'll correct them. Thanks!
> 
> -Gamut baknd==Good morning
> 
> -Shulkur== watery
> 
> -Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu==A dwarf that can't endure the bad, will not live to see the good
> 
> -Shândab men== I agree.
> 
> -Khuzd belkîn, Bilbo Melekûn== Dwarves are strong, Bilbo is a hobbit.
> 
> -Ubdùzh == Later


	3. There's a World I Need to Know

  
_I wanna know, can you show me_   
_I wanna know about these_   
_strangers like me_   
_Tell me more, please show me_   
_Something's familiar about these strangers like me_   


_-Strangers Like Me (Tarzan)_

* * *

Glóin escorted Bilbo back to his room after dinner.

Someone had laid a robe and silk pajamas out on the bed, and placed his book on top of his pillow. There was a vase of flowers on the dresser and a bowl of apples on his desk. Bilbo pulled off his fine dinnerware and slipped into the night clothes. He sat on the bed that was too soft and looked at the flowers-field flowers.

And then Bilbo felt something wet drop onto his hand and he blinked in surprise at the tear he hadn’t even realized he’d shed. He brushed the back of his hand against his cheek and it came back wet.

He was not going to cry like some Hobbit lad. He was a Baggins and a Took. He was made to endure and endure he would. Besides, nothing bad had happened yet. He’d ask tomorrow about writing letters. It would be nice to write Frodo and to make sure that Hamfast understood he was to take pay for keeping up Bag End.

Bilbo stood up to grab his notebook out of his pack when he heard someone fiddling with his door. He froze mid step and stared at it with wide eyes. The knob shook for a minute, and then there was the distinct sound of the door being locked. Bilbo dropped his foot and turned fully towards the door with a gaping mouth.

_They were locking him in?_

Bilbo sat heavily on his bed and just stared at the door. Someone was laughing maniacally and it took him a moment to realize it was him.

He contemplated trying to open the door but it seemed rather pointless. He had no where to go and it would make it seem like he was trying to escape. Which he wasn’t about to. He wasn’t going to do anything to risk getting sent away. If the dwarves decided he wasn’t appropriate for whatever they wanted, they’d get another Hobbit and it could be Frodo.

Bilbo fell backwards and spread his arms out. The bed was really soft. It smelled vaguely of earth. Everything seemed to smell like earth and metal though. It was probably just dwarfish. The Shire always smelled like flowers and trees. It smelled of growing things.

Bilbo got up and took the flowers off the dresser. He brought it over and set it on his nightstand so he could smell them. He climbed back on his bed and curled up around his book.

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

Bilbo awoke feeling horribly groggy. His head felt stuffy and his nose was clogged. It was the awful feeling that always accompanied a good cry, and Bilbo couldn’t figure out why he had been cry-

He sat straight up and the blanket slipped off his silk covered shoulders. He was in the Blue Mountains at King Thrór’s halls. He was now ‘companion’ to a dwarf-he still wasn’t sure which-and he had been locked in.

Right. There was all that.

He slipped off of his bed and went to the door. He paused with his fingers halfway extended to the doorknob. The morning air was surprisingly warm and the floor wasn’t even chilly, despite being stone.

Bilbo’s fingers trembled and he drew his hand back. He didn’t know what to do! Should he leave or wait for someone to fetch him?

The door knob jiggled and Bilbo shot back to the bed faster than he had ever moved in his life. He scrambled to grab his book and look as if he had been perfectly relaxed where he was.

The door swung open and Bilbo waited a full ten seconds (that he counted) before he looked up.

Bofur was standing in the doorway with a tray of food and a big grin. “Good morning.” He brought the tray in and set it on Bilbo’s desk. He set out a plate, cup, and silverware, all the while humming a snatch of song.

Bilbo found himself watching Bofur adamantly. For how much the Hobbits traded with the dwarfs, he had actually only ever seen a few of them. Aside from the ones who directed the lottery. They were largely unknown. There had been ten hobbits that had won the lottery, and Bilbo was the 11th.

“Why am I here?” Bilbo asked, the words seeming like magic in the air for the effect they had on Bofur. The dwarf completely froze midway through pouring a cup of tea. Bilbo was mildly worried that he would spill it and burn himself. Bofur managed to catch himself and set the pot down with a pronounced clink of porcelain. Bilbo had half expected dwarfs to have iron tea pots.

Bofur turned to face him with a thoroughly confused face.

“You don’t know? Hasn’t anyone bothered to explain?”

Bilbo quickly shook his head and leaned forward. Was he finally going to learn something? Bofur opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly unsure, and Bilbo wanted to shout for him to continue. Finally the dwarf pulled the chair away from the desk and set it in front of Bilbo’s bed. He then set the tray on the bed, took a crumpet off of it and sat back. He motioned for Bilbo to eat so Bilbo took up the cup of tea and a crumpet of his own. He wasn’t going to annoy the dwarf that might finally answer his questions.

“Bother, where do I even start?”

“At the beginning, if you please.” Bilbo responded. Bofur snorted and gave his head a little shake. His mustache twitched and his hat slipped down his head a bit. He pushed it back up properly and chewed on his crumpet. Bilbo tried not to fidget in impatience.

“Alright. You’re here for Prince Thorin.”

Bilbo nearly choked on his tea. Thorin, the prince that sat beside him at dinner? That was who he was to be ‘companion’ to?

Bofur nodded his head. “Yeah,” he scratched at his beard, “the prince has a bit of a presence.” He finished off his crumpet and dusted off his hand. “Do you mind if I smoke? This’ll be a bit of a story and it’ll be nicer with a pipe.”

“Not at all.” Bilbo reached into his pack and grabbed out his own pipe. Bofur went about preparing his slowly and it was all Bilbo could do not to snatch the intricately carved pipe and fill it up himself. The pipe had runes around the top and an etching of a hummingbird on it. Bilbo almost asked why but he did not want to distract the already distractible dwarf.

Bofur blew two puffs of smoke and finally started smoking.

“We are not all originally from the Blue Mountains.” Bofur wrinkled his nose, “well, I am, but that’s beside the point. King Thrór is actually King of Erebor. He’s here for political reasons. Some sort of treaty with the elves is happening.”

Bilbo almost managed to hide his sigh of impatience. Bofur smiled sheepishly. “But you don’t need to know that.” He took another puff. “So, Thrór is King of Erebor, and his son, Thrain, is king of the Blue Mountains. I’m not explaining this well at all, am I? Let me start over.” Bofur exhaled and sat upright.

“Erebor is far to the east. There is no comparison to it on this side of the world. It’s the greatest dwarf kingdom in Middle Earth-if not the greatest of all kingdoms. Erebor is King Thrór’s stronghold. It's carved deep in the Lonely Mountain and its beauty is legendary. Its wealth unfathomable. It’s full of precious gems hewn from rock and the mines are full of great seams of gold, silver, and mithril running like rivers through the stone.” Bofur smiled wistfully and Bilbo was imagining the halls in comparison to the Blue Mountains. This place was splendid, how could Erebor possibly be more grand?

“Only the best dwarves are permitted to work in its mines. They’ve delved deep into the mountain through the centuries, and it was under Thrór’s reign that _it_ was discovered.”

The 'it' was very pronounced and Bilbo couldn't help but feel like it would have been capitalized.

“The Heart of the Mountain. The Arkenstone.” Bofur breathed the name and Bilbo felt a shudder run through him though he wasn’t sure why. He’d never heard a word that made him feel so ill. “Thrór named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign that his right to rule was divine.” Bofur smirked, a far away look in his eyes. “He would have all pay homage to him. Every kingdom in Middle Earth would bow before the King of Erebor for the beauty of that stone.”

Bofur blew out a ring of smoke and looked at Bilbo. The corner of his lip twitched up and he tilted his head, studying the Hobbit. Bilbo held still, unsure of why he was being stared at. He felt as if he was being measured. Bofur gave his head a little nod. Apparently Bilbo passed the test. Whatever it was.

“He had the stone removed from it’s location and installed into his throne. The jewel glowed brightly, regardless of the time and was forever warm to the touch.” Bofur explained and Bilbo frowned. Gems were cool, not warm.

“No one knew quite when it started, but the days turned sour and the watchful nights closed in. Thrór's love of the gem grew fierce, becoming a sickness that grew within him. A sickness of the mind that couldn’t be defeated. Thrór could not leave his jewel. He could not eat or sleep unless he was before it. It consumed his every thought and desire.”

Bilbo had brought his legs up and wrapped his arms around them at some point during the tale. “Eventually it got to where Thrór was incapable of moving for fear of losing his Arkenstone. He became little more than a statue, unable to escape the curse of the King’s Jewel. The scholars of Erebor searched for a way to free their king from his madness. No one could find any other gem similar to the Arkenstone though. No where in history could its match be found.”

Bofur drew a long puff from his pipe and slowly blew the smoke  out, a lost look in his eye. “Finally our young prince, Thorin, took it upon himself to free his uncle. He consulted a wizard of some renown among the elves and asked him to lift the curse. The wizard warned him that a curse could not be lifted for nothing. An equal price must be paid. Thorin, of course, agreed that he would take the penalty.”

Bofur snapped out of the revere he’d been in so quickly that Bilbo was startled. The dwarf narrowed his warm brown eyes on Bilbo and held his gaze. “That is where you come in, my dear Hobbit. None but the royal family and certain staff know of what the penalty that Thorin had to pay was.” He blew another smoke ring and watched it dissolve into the air. Bilbo didn’t breathe, and couldn’t move. “The same wizard who freed Thrór from his madness prophesied that Thorin would be free from the curse placed upon him by a Melekûn. A Hobbit.”

Bilbo felt more confused than he had before the story.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The wizard went to the stone with Thorin and cast a spell on it. The stone glowed brighter than it ever had before and flashed a blinding light. When the dwarves recovered their sight the stone was gone and Thrór was free from his madness. It seemed perfect. The wizard kept going on about the price, of course, but no one listened to him. Until the next year when the curse he’d warned of came into effect.”

Bofur stopped talking and Bilbo waited what he felt was respectable amount of time before he started to inquire. “Which was?”

Bofur stood up and pressed his lips into a straight line. He tilted and tipped his head. “That is not my place to tell.”

Bilbo dropped his legs and fisted his hands. “But that didn’t explain anything, not properly! Why am I here? What do they do with us?”

Bofur looked a bit surprised at the volume and passion that Bilbo spoke with but the Hobbit couldn’t find it in himself to care. He needed an answer.

“Thorin spends time with each of them and sees if they’re capable of lifting the curse. I assure you, Master Baggins. Your stay will be most comfortable. He will require a few months to determine if you are the one capable of lifting the curse.” Bofur shrugged. “I can’t tell you exactly what the curse is because it’s not my place.” He backed up a step and offered Bilbo a confident, if not infuriating, smile. “I’ll be back to collect the tray in a bit. Have a good morning.” The dwarf left with another bow and smile.

Bilbo shrieked and threw his pillow at the door in a (justifiable) rage. He had been torn away from his home to help cure a curse that was caused by a gold-happy King who wouldn’t even give him the courtesy of speaking to him?

And why had they locked him in?

And to ignore the fact that so many Hobbits had never returned. They were all just dusting over that topic as if it wasn’t important.

Bilbo turned around and stormed back to his bed which he proceeded to kick. It felt extremely good and the stinging in his toes distracted him from the blood pounding in his head.

“Is this a bad time?” Bilbo stood still for a moment and wondered if he stood perfectly still if the person would just go away. He hadn’t even heard anyone come up and open his door. That’s what he got for acting like a moody tween.

“Sir?” Bilbo sighed silently, dusted off his night shirt (and god, he was still in his night things) and turned around. An elderly dwarf stood before him. He had short, whispy white hair and a full beard that had no braids. he was wearing red robes in a regal style that clearly spoke of status.

“Good morning.” Bilbo blurted, embarrassed at being caught in the middle of a temper tantrum. The dwarf nodded his head and looked around.

“Aye, it is a good morning. Though I think it’ll rain later.” Bilbo faltered for a moment, once again realizing he knew very little about dwarves and their customs.

“I’ve been sent to fetch you for a private audience with Prince Thorin.” He paused and tilted his head, surveying the Hobbit with a frown. Bilbo flushed and fidgeted. “Though you can’t appear in that.”

There was no way they would have made Bilbo go before a _prince_ in his night things. He debated informing the older dwarf about that but kept his mouth shut. The dwarf huffed and gave his head a tired shake. “I’ll fetch Dori to get you ready. I’m Balin, by the way.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” Balin chuckled.

“Aw, but Master Baggins, we’re at _your_ service.” And with that maddeningly confusing comment the dwarf left. Dori came in a few minutes later and Bilbo had only just managed to clean up the pillow and tea his tantrum had spilt. He still hadn’t eaten his breakfast and there were sausages and bacon…

“Sorry for the delay!” Dori nearly squeaked as he burst into the room. He bowed hap-hazardously and went straight for the wardrobe Bilbo had yet to open. His mouth fell open when he saw the number of clothes in it. Bilbo had quite an impressive closet at Bag End but it was nothing to this and _how did they fit so many clothes in there? I_ t had to have been magic.

Dori pulled articles out and then came at Bilbo in a flurry of wool, leather, silk, and other fabrics that Bilbo didn’t know what to call. Before he quite knew what to do, he was covered in a new outfit. This time he was in a pale green that reminded Bilbo of the soft lambs ear that Hamfast would plant in front of Bilbo’s door. He tightened up Bilbo’s braids from the previous night, making sure the three gold beads were still securely in place.

Balin came back in and shepherded Bilbo towards the door. Dori ran after him with a rag and continued dusting off his clothes.

“Lad, he’s quite fine.” Balin huffed, and he pushed Dori away. “You can have the clothes he wore last night tended to if you want.” Dori gave Bilbo’s shoulder one last rub with the rag and went back into the room.

“Right.” Bilbo straightened his collar and tried to stuff his hands into his pockets only to realize his new tunic and weskit didn’t have any. Now he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“This way, laddie.” Balin gave him a gentle push and Bilbo stumbled forward. Balin eyed him out of the corner of his eye before leading the way. Bilbo followed, trying not to get distracted by the halls.His head felt stuffy, like he’d crammed too much in and his stomach was fluttery. He’d met Thorin last night, of course, but he hadn’t known that Thorin was the reason was here. He’d mostly been thinking about using the proper fork and not causing a ruckus.

“What exactly am I going to be...umm… doing?” What Bilbo really wanted to ask was what was going to be done _to_ him but he didn’t think it’d be proper.

“Accompanying Prince Thorin. You will dine with him each evening, and greet him every morning. During the day you will entertain him when he is not otherwise occupied by the court.” Balin slowed down a bit and really looked at Bilbo. “You’re to befriend him.”

Bilbo had nothing to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.

The Prince’s quarters was not that far from Bilbo’s, not nearly as far as the dining hall had been. Balin rapped on the door in two quick percussions and then waited a long moment before pushing open the door. He stepped back and motioned Bilbo forward. Bilbo swallowed thickly, gripped his weskit in his unoccupied hands, and shuffled into the room.

Balin shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making the story behind why Bilbo is at the Blue Mountains confusing on purpose. I'm going to explain it, and everything with the Hobbits in later chapters, so don't worry. I'm wanting everything to be revealed through Bilbo's pov. Don't worry though. Thorin's coming up with some answers :)


	4. To Be Safe We Lose Our Chance of Ever Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, just hold your mouse over the Khuzdul phrase to get the translation, and if you're on a tablet/smart phone, just look at the bottom notes.

  
_What I love most about rivers is:_   
_You can't step in the same river twice_   
_The water's always changing, always flowing_   
_But people, I guess, can't live like that_   
_We all must pay a price_   


_-Just Around the Riverbend (Pocahontas)_

* * *

 

This room was bigger than Bilbo’s and he was beginning to feel like the dwarves were trying to compensate their buildings for their own small stature. Couldn’t anything be normal sized?

There was a fire in the fireplace that gave the blue stone of the floor and walls a warm feel. Animal pelts covered the floor, showing off the prince’s hunting prowess, and giving Bilbo something nice to stand on. A large, bed stood at the far corner of the room and it’s post went up till they met the ceiling.

“Step forward so that I might better see you.” Bilbo didn’t breathe, and he was fairly certain his entire body spasmed at the unexpected voice. It came from somewhere to his back right, where he couldn’t see. He followed the instruction and went to the fire. It was pleasantly warm and Bilbo stared at the dancing flames gratefully.

“What is your age, halfling?”

The deep voice made Bilbo feel defenseless in a strange way. “Thirty-three, sire.”

“There will be no need to use formalities when we are in public,” steps sounded behind him and there was suddenly a light touch on his shoulder, “Please, call me Thorin now.” The prince stepped in front of Bilbo and let his gaze slide over the Hobbit’s form. Bilbo did not move and managed to keep from gaping like a fish.

“Then call me Bilbo.”

Thorin grinned and Bilbo’s heart did a strange thing where it tried to climb into his throat. Thorin’s smile was _splendid_. It brightened his eyes with blue light and softened his sharp features. The skin around his eyes crinkled making him look years younger, and far less weary.

“Bilbo.” Thorin’s dwarvish accent made the name sound a bit more like ‘Beelbow’ than ‘Bilbo’ but it still sounded nice.

“We’ve never had a Baggins win before. Generally they’re Tooks.” Bilbo wasn’t surprised. The Tooks were the largest family in the Shire.

“I’m part Took.” Bilbo responded cheekily. He was feeling calmer here than he had at dinner. Thorin was wearing simpler clothing, and though he still had a crown on, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as what Thror and Thrain had worn. Though, Thorin’s presence was more demanding of attention than either of the other two had been.

“Indeed?” Bilbo nodded. Thorin considered him for a long moment before motioning towards the table in the center of the room. Bilbo hastily sat down. Thorin joined him in a more dignified manner. “You are my new companion then?”

Bilbo nodded his head once and tried to smile normally. “Yes, I am.” He shifted in his chair and tried to appear dignified. “Please, Thorin, I know I have no right to ask, but I can’t help but wonder. Why am I here? What do you need of me?”

“I need you to free me.” Thorin said quietly, all traces of his smile gone. “That is why you are here.”

And Bilbo once again found himself marveling at the dwarf ability to be vague. “I’m sorry? What?”

Thorin pushed a folded up, thick paper towards him. “This is the terms of agreement. I need you to sign it before I can tell you anything else.” Bilbo’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he picked the paper up and it unfolded into a vast amount of writing.

Good lord.

“It's just the usual; summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth. It also makes it quite clear that you are to tell no one of the curse that has fallen on my house.” Thorin said casually and Bilbo’s head snapped up.

“Funeral arrangements?” He looked back down at the paper and flipped a page. “Up to, but not exceeding, one chest of gold. Seems fair… Kingdom shall not be liable for injuries including but not limited to… Laceration...evisceration... _incineration_?”

Bilbo’s stomach felt queasy. Thorin simply nodded his head. “Aye, we’ll get to that.”

“What happens if I don’t sign it?” Something in Thorin’s eyes faltered.

“Then I will send you back to the Shire with fifty gold pieces for your troubles.” That seemed perfectly amendable. Bilbo looked back at the contract and sucked in a breath. He was feeling a bit light headed and stars were dancing around the edges of his vision. He took another breath and set the paper down. He wouldn’t go back, there was a chance that Frodo would be selected, and he was _not_ going to pass out.

“Do you have a pen?” Thorin passed him a red quill and green ink. Bilbo signed his name quickly and with a simple flourish. Thorin took the paper back and signed his own name under Bilbo’s before folding the contract up and setting it aside. He leaned back in his seat and regarded Bilbo with a blank face. It was unnerving to say the least.

Bilbo squirmed in his seat a bit.

“I assume you know what caused my current need of a Hobbit?”

“You mean the cursed gem?” Thorin nodded his head. “Yes. B-I got the basic details but I still don’t know what it is you need me for or what the...new? curse is.” Thorin nodded his head and dropped his gaze to the table. He ran his fingers along the carved symbols.

“My grandfather was consumed with the accursed stone. It had destroyed his mind and refused to kill him. I could not abide by that. I summoned the most powerful wizard I could find and demanded he remove the curse at any cost. He informed me that magic demands equal acts. To remove a curse requires an equal curse to be placed on another, apparently. I did not care. I had him remove it anyway. He did so, and for a year my people prospered. Alas that the days grew darker again.”

Thorin looked up and caught Bilbo’s eyes with his own unflinching gaze. “On Durin’s day, a year to the minute from when the wizard freed my grandfather I felt a change within myself. I was in the Great Hall of Thrain. Such splendor has never been seen as was in the hall of my father.” He gave a wry, bitter smile that spoke of painful memories and Biblo felt for the first time that he might not want to know what was about to be told. “Thankfully that was the largest hall in Erebor, and I was only with the night watch. Dwalin, whom you have met, was with me. We were finishing rounds when I felt the burn.”

“It’s an all consuming agony,” Thorin murmured, “the likes of which none can imagine. Fire burned through my veins and engulfed my mind in it’s searing heat. I grew feverish and was unaware of my surroundings. My fellow guards rushed to my aid but they were unable to touch me for I burned too hot. My armor disintegrated and turned to ash against the heat of my skin. I could only scream as I lost my mind.”

The hand he had on the table clenched in a fist and Bilbo couldn’t move his eyes from Thorin’s fierce gaze. “I woke the next day to discover that I had destroyed the hall. My guards were all in healing.” Thorin met Bilbo’s eyes and they were, void of any warmth. “They had been attacked by a dragon.”

Bilbo’s mouth popped open in surprise and disbelief. Thorin didn’t hesitate.

“That is my curse, halfling. Because my Grandfather was consumed by a gem I am forced to transform into that which will hoard treasure above all else. With no thought for life, or care for others. I become the Worm of Dread.”

Bilbo knew he was gaping in an utterly unattractive and probably offensive manner, but he couldn’t stop. The contract’s terms were making a horrible lot of sense.

Thorin stared at Bilbo for a moment before offering another wry smile. “You are doing well, Bilbo. All but two Hobbit’s had passed out at this point of the tale.”

“Took and Baggins.” Bilbo murmured, his eyes still wide and heart racing. “The Took doesn’t back down from challenge and the Baggins won’t allow something so publically unseemly as passing out happen.” He smiled, and if it trembled a bit, well, it was still a smile. “Though I am a bit woosy. Is that why I was locked up last night?”

Thorin nodded his head. “Yes. It was my night to transform. I withdraw to the treasure hoard as my dragon form won’t leave it. As long as no one enters I am contained and content and no one is harmed.” Thorin gave a half shrug. “That’s why my father is now King of the Blue Mountains. Erebor was too much to risk to my curse. I have tried exile but I will inevitably fly back to Erebor or here.”

“Why a Hobbit?” It seemed the most important question now.

“Because the wizard who transferred the curse to me said that a Hobbit was the only creature capable of ridding me of the curse.”

“Really?” Thorin nodded and chuckled dryly.

“Oh yes. He sang a prophecy. He went on for quite a while, actually.”

Thorin closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

 

> _Under the Mountain dark and tall_
> 
> _The King did come unto its call!_
> 
> _The gem was bright, it promise great,_
> 
> _And ever its master to madness did fall._
> 
> _His greed grew sharp, the nights so long,_
> 
> _The fall was swift, for stones will was strong;_
> 
> _To free the King from so cruel a hate;_
> 
> _A dwarf shall to evil now belong._
> 
> _Against the gem was wove mighty spells,_
> 
> _While now hammers fall like ringing bells_
> 
> _In places deep, now dark thing sleep,_
> 
> _In once hollow halls beneath the fells._
> 
> _On one neck was King’s fate strung_
> 
> _On one dwarf was all hope hung_
> 
> _In dragon-fire, the hope renewed_
> 
> _The melody of harps no longer wrung._
> 
> _Now the mountain throne was freed!_
> 
> _But the warnings did no one  heed!_
> 
> _For the dwarf who fought the fate_
> 
> _The prince of friend now has need._
> 
> _So call all over mountains cold,_
> 
> _To place of legends old!_
> 
> _Here at the Shire awaits,_
> 
> _One with heart of solid gold._
> 
> _A Hobbit will walk kings hall_
> 
> _Out of Blue Mountain dark and tall._
> 
> _The Worm of Dread will be slain_
> 
> _Then will the Prince be free of all!_

Bilbo felt light headed again and he realized after a moment that he wasn’t breathing. He let his breath out and sucked in another one.

Thorin opened his eyes again and Bilbo understood why they were so sad now. “Well,” Bilbo finally said, the words feeling heavy in the warm room. “I have no idea how I’m to help, or why it had to be a hobbit of all things, but I can promise you I will help in anyway I can. No one should have to be a dragon because someone picked up a stone without reading the warnings.”

“Thank you, Bilbo.” Thorin murmured, his voice low and soft.

“I don’t suppose you know any more than that bit about a gold heart and walking the halls?”

“Oh,” Thorin nodded his head and Bilbo thought his cheeks looked a bit pinker than they had. He dismissed it because the thought of this regal prince blushing was absurd. “A little bit. I will know within a moon or two whether the Hobbit is the one I seek. He made that quite clear. I have no idea what the Hobbit is to do once I know that they’re the one. I’m afraid he wasn’t too helpful. He didn’t tell me the gender or age of the Hobbit. Only that we’d be well matched in that regard.”

“Well matched?” Bilbo mouthed. What did that mean. Thorin gave his head a knowing nod.

“Don’t ask wizards for advice. They manage to say yes and no at the same time, with flowery words that take forever to decipher.”

Bilbo grinned, and it was real this time. “So, my Prince, what would you like to do?” Thorin smiled for a moment, and it was all that Bilbo needed to know he understood that Bilbo was willing to try.

“I have drills in an hour. You could accompany me?”

“Drills? Like sword fighting?” Thorin nodded his head and Bilbo felt his stomach flop. “Is it dangerous? I don’t know anything about fighting.”

“The weapons are blunt. You won’t be harmed. Perhaps we can teach you the basics.” Well, it would be far better than sitting in his room fretting.

“Alright.”

“You’ve had servants tend you, yes?” Bilbo nodded his head quickly. He liked everyone he’d met so far and didn’t want Thorin to think their service had been shoddy. “Pick one and he’ll be your dwarf-servant. The dwarf that tends to your needs, serves you at dinner, and handles your other servants.”

“That seems like I’m picking someone to be really busy.”

“It’s a status jump. Any servant will be quite happy to accept it.”

Bilbo nodded his head. He’d probably pick Bofur. Dori would be too mothering, and he could never understand a word Bifur said.

The door to the chambers open and Balin appeared with a quick bow. Thorin stood up and offered his hand to Bilbo. He took it and marveled at the size. Thorin’s hand was far larger than his, and strong. Very strong. It was calloused as well, which told of the metal work that all dwarves enjoyed.

“I will have Gloin fetch you for drills in an hours time. Rasup gamut, Bilbo.”

Bilbo bowed and released the prince’s hand. “Rasup gamut, Thorin.” He repeated with only a little trouble. Thorin looked surprised and pleased, and Bilbo’s stomach warmed.

He followed Balin out of the room on feet that he couldn’t quite feel and it wasn’t until he was back in his own quarters looking through his wardrobe that he realized he hadn’t asked about the other Hobbits.

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

“I think you just like making light of me.” Bilbo lamented. Bofur snorted on his other side and undid the braids.

“It’s a perfectly acceptable style on dwarves. How was I to know it’d make you look like a mouse?”

“You braided me a pair of ears.” Bilbo deadpanned. He had ten minutes until Balin came to fetch him and he was beginning to feel the keen burning of panic. He was going to drills were there would be swords and he’d probably lose a limb. Coordination had never been one of his stronger traits.

He still hadn’t had Breakfast, and now he was missing Second Breakfast as well.

“I can’t help it,” Bofur hummed, his fingers making quick words of disassembling. “You’re hair is so fine and such a fascinating color. I want to play with it.” The dwarf was devoted to his task and Bilbo felt comfortable around him. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Thorin he’d been served well. There was something about Bofur too… He was always amiable, but he also just radiated a kind of happiness. Even when he’d been telling the story of why Bilbo was at the Blue Mountains he’d had a hard time getting annoyed at his slow build until after the dwarf had left.

If he was going to be here for a few months, if he was going to befriend Thorin and help lift the curse, then he was going to have to be comfortable. He’d have to be himself and make friends or it would be a long, tiring stay.

He’d also find out where his fellow Hobbits had gone. He was beginning to suspect that the dwarves didn’t know. They weren’t mentioned, and it felt a bit like taboo.

“What did you do before you joined the servants?” Bofur paused mid braid before adjusting his hold on the hair.

“I started life as a miner. I make toys as well. Me and my cousin both do.” Bofur kept his eyes on Bilbo’s hair and refused to meet his gaze in the mirror. Bilbo felt he’d unknowingly struck a bit of nerve there.

“I can see you making toys. You probably had everyone in awe with stories and tomfoolery.” Bofur met his gaze again, his own eyes sparkling.

“Tomfoolery?”

“A hobbit term. Perfectly acceptable. It means pranking, foolishness, troublemaking, general goofiness.”

Bofur nodded his head and considered Bilbo’s hair again. “An apt description then.” He did a complicated twist with Bilbo’s hair and switched to the other side of his head. Bilbo had no idea what the dwarf was doing. “My brother and I joined up here after my cousin had an unfortunate accident.” He tapped Bilbo on the head where Bifur had the axe embedded. Bilbo shuddered. Bofur took up the beads and clasped the braids with them before stepping back. He grinned in approval.

“Ha! Dori’d be jealous.” Bilbo smiled and lifted his hand to feel it only to have Bofur bat his hand away. “Nope! Don’t touch or you’ll mess it up. Hand me that there plate.” He indicated the silver plate that he’d brought the combs and hair oil in on. Bilbo passed it over and Bofur held it up behind Bilbo’s head. Bilbo looked at it in confusion for a moment before he realized he could see the back of his head in it. Bofur was brilliant.

He’d done a intricate network of braids that connected to each other until they all joined into one large braid. It looked remarkable.

“Right. That decides it then.” Bilbo gave his head a little nod and tugged on his westkit. “I’m going to pick you.”

“Pick me?” Bofur’s brows furrowed and he lowered the plate. “What? I can try a different style if you like-”

“No, not that. The styles brilliant. I’m going to pick you to be my dwarf-servant. The head servant?” Bilbo lowered his eyes and tried to remember exactly what Thorin had called it. “Bother, how did the Prince phrase it? The one that has the higher status?”

Boffer was gaping at him and Bilbo felt a rush of satisfaction that he could catch the bouncy dwarf off guard. After ten more seconds though, he was worried he’d done something wrong. “Unless you’d rather not. I-I can understand that. I only thought I’d ask. I’m still not sure of all the customs, obviously. I’m sorry if I’ve offe-ow.” Bofur gave his hair a gentle tug.

“You tend to babble a bit, Master Baggins. I’d be honored to be your dwarf servant.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to respond but Balin entered with a bow and there was no time to say much of anything. They were off again to wherever the training ground was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rasup gamut== Farewell
> 
> This Poem is from the hobbit 'The Gathering of the Clouds' I transformed it to suit my own needs.
> 
> If anyone is still confused about what is going on let me know. Here's the basic story:
> 
> The Arkenstone was cursed (I'll explain why later) and drove Thror mad with desire for it. Think Gollum and the ring. He couldn't leave it, couldn't eat, and couldn't sleep. He basically stood by it. Thorin decided that was not going to work so he fetched a wizard and told him to get rid of the curse on his grandpa. [three guesses who that wizard is ;) ] The wizard removed the curse, but the curse would resurface in another form on Thorin. Thorin agreed to those terms and the Wizard cured Thror. A year later Thorin transformed to a dragon in Erebor. Ever since then he changes to a dragon (we'll figure out how frequently later) and he's cursed to continue doing so until a Hobbit saves him. The wizard didn't tell him how the Hobbit would save him, only that it had to be a hobbit. That's why they hold a lottery. We'll learn more about the missing Hobbits later. ;) I hope that answers a lot of questions, but feel free to tell me if it doesn't!


	5. Following the Leader

  
_Tee dum, tee dee_   
_A teedle ee do tee day_   
_We're out for fun_   
_And this is the game we play:_   
_Come on, join in_   
_And sing your troubles away_   
_With a teedle ee dum_   
_A teedle do tee day_   
_-Following the Leader (Peter Pan)_   


* * *

_  
_  


“This is quite ridiculous.” Bilbo commented with a huff as they climbed yet another staircase. “I know they say that the Road goes ever on and on, but you all take that a bit too much to heart.”

Balin looked startled but Bofur chuckled. “I fear our Hobbit is not as appreciative of our large dwelling as we might have hoped.”

“You need ponies to get around.” Bilbo insisted as they turned a corner and started down a long corridor.

“It’s not much further.” Bofur offered. “And we’ll be outside.”

“We will?” Bilbo felt his lips instantly lift in a smile and he suddenly found his feet a lot lighter. There were several more hallways before they left through ludicrously large gates to what was a courtyard of some sorts.

The sun was bright and warmed Bilbo’s skin pleasantly. If he’d been by himself he would have closed his eyes and turned his head up towards her light. As it was, he didn’t want to look to odd.

A hard clang drew his attention away from the sun and to the right. His mouth dropped open in a  bit of surprise at the dwarves he saw there. They were covered in heavy armor with hammers, axes, spears, bows, and swords. Several were paired off to fight, while others were in small groups. In the center of the field Dwalin, the balding dwarf, was fighting Thorin with a large axe. Thorin had a long sword that he wielded with surprising grace. Bilbo wouldn’t have thought dwarves could be graceful.

There was entirely too much to watch and it took Bilbo quite a bit to realize that Bofur and Balin had kept walking without him. Bofur had clearly realized they’d left the halfling behind because he was coming back to fetch him with a grin.

“I’m going to be killed.” Bilbo said blandly as Bofur draped his arm across Bilbo’s shoulders and lead him towards  far quieter corner of the training grounds.

“Nonsense. That’s for the seasoned fighters. You’re going to be over here learning the basics with Ori.” His grin turned wicked. “I’m pretty sure that Fíli runs this area.”

“Fíli is going to come at me with a sword?” Bilbo squeaked in horror.

“Not on the first day.” Fíli answered, coming up on his other side and making Bilbo jump. The dwarf laughed and Bilbo glared. Cheeky buggers. “You’ll be learning how to stand and hold your weapon for a while. I’ll have Ori show you that. It’ll be good practice for our scribe.”

Bilbo paused caused Bofur to trip up a bit. Fíli continued on to rifle through the stand of weapons. “Wait,” he called, excitement coming through his voice. He wasn’t sure, but if there was even a possibility… “Ori? Ori of Ri?”

Fíli looked over his shoulder and nodded before turning back to the weapons. He pushed a particularly vicious looking hammer aside and pulled a small, Hobbit sized sword out of the stack. Bilbo hardly noticed. He was trying not to bounce with excitement.

“I take it you have read his books?” Bofur asked, smiling at the large grin Bilbo wore.

“Who has read my books?” A surprisingly young voice asked from behind Bilbo. He spun around and felt his eyes widen comically. A young dwarf, younger than Fíli even, was walking towards him. He had gingery-brown hair and soft features. Brown eyes stared cheerfully at Bilbo and his slim mustache twitched upward in a grin. He had several hanging braids and a strange bowl cut. He was covered in knitwear and looked warm and comfortable.

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped, “you’re Ori? I’m such a fan. You write the most incredible adventure stories and your characters are so real and you’re always so original…” Bilbo flushed at his babbling and clamped a hand over his mouth. Ori beamed.

“Thank you, Mister?”

“This is Bilbo, companion to the Prince.” Bofur announced. Ori’s eyes shot to the servant dwarf’s before looking back at Bilbo. His smile softened and he gave a little bow.

“Well met, Mister Bilbo. Ori of Ri at your service.”

“Here,” Fíli dropped the sword into Bilbo’s hand and he scrambled to get a grip on it, “see how that feels.”

“Dangerous.” Bilbo answered automatically, earning a laugh from Ori and Fíli.

“Well enough. Here, spread your legs out a little farther, not so stiffly. Bend your arms like this, you want to be as loose as possible.” As he spoke Fíli positioned Bilbo’s legs in the manner he wanted, followed by his arms. He adjusted Bilbo’s hold on the sword, and it was remarkably easier to hold than the way he had been holding it.

“What are you teaching our Hobbit?” Thorin’s deep cadence washed over Bilbo from behind and he nearly dropped his weapon in surprise. He managed to hold on to it, and not slip out of the stance Fíli had put him in. A hand pressed against his shoulder and he did as Thorin wordlessly suggested.

“Well, I figured we’d start with teaching him how to hold a sword. Ori’s training on Archery right now, but I think we can have them fight each other later.”

Thorin came around to the front of Bilbo, nodding his head and studying the Hobbit’s stance. “Have Kíli take over Ori’s training and join Dwalin for today’s practice. I will teach Bilbo.” Fíli nodded his head, looking mildly surprised.

“Yes, Uncle.” He jogged off to the archery end of the ground and spoke with Kíli. Bilbo dropped his sword and watched him go with a bit of apprehension.

“Show me the stance he’s taught.” Bilbo immediately complied, grateful that Bofur was still standing nearby. Something about Thorin unsettled Bilbo, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good way or not. He was more aware of himself around the dwarf, and he found himself fidgety.

Thorin narrowed his eyes, circling Bilbo for a moment. His gaze was focused solely on Bilbo, an intense look on his stern face.

Bilbo shifted a little, uncomfortable at the close scrutiny. Thorin frowned and he moved as quickly as he could back to position he had been in.

“Give the sword a swing.” Bilbo stared at the metal in his hands for a moment before tentatively swinging it straight out. Bofur chuckled and Bilbo glared at him. Thorin walked back around him and stayed behind him. After a moment there was a light push at his arm and he dropped the limb down like Thorin wanted.

With Thorin standing behind him, Bilbo couldn't see his face. He had no idea what the dwarf was doing and it left him uneasy and oddly alert. A puff of air ruffled his hair and a quiet sound that might have been a chuckle danced over his ears with the breath. Bilbo had no idea what to do other than to keep holding the stance. A second or so later, there was a hand on his back.

It was a surprisingly warm touch.

Thorin lightly pushed him. "Straighten up a bit," he said. "You don’t need to bend your legs so much.” Bilbo tried to follow the advice but found himself oddly distracted by that warm hand. Thorin removed it after a moment and Bilbo let out a breath.

It was going to be a long practice.

-{}-{o}-{}-

Ori, as it turned out, was about as far along in fighting as he was. They had a lot of practice together, and Bilbo found the young dwarf was surprisingly easy to talk to. They were both barely of age in their cultures, and mothered about a bit for it. He had no doubt they would become great friends.

Thorin was quite a different matter altogether. Bilbo had quite liked the Thorin he met at dinner and in the room, but Thorin that was in front of his knights was far more reserved. He didn’t talk overly much, and he never smiled. He had a certain aloofness that Bilbo was itching to get rid of. He’d been quick to Bilbo’s side anytime the Hobbit made a mistake, and each time he’d looked a little more relaxed. Bilbo had found himself making a lot of mistakes.

Archery was fun, and Bilbo was surprisingly good at aiming and throwing things.

He was left with several hours by himself after the drills when Thorin had to leave for the open court. Dwalin and Gloin followed after him, as did Fili and Kili leaving Bilbo with Ori and Bofur. The trio stopped by the kitchen for lunch (and Bilbo was thrilled that he finally got a meal) before debating what to do with the remainder of the day. Bofur thought exploring would be fun, but Bilbo was not going to go walking around just to look at more tall pillars. Ori suggested the library and Bilbo was thrilled at that thought.

So they went to the library, dragging a slightly less chipper Bofur along.

For the first time in the Blue Mountain, Bilbo appreciated the vastness. He had never seen so many books in one place. Ori was watching him with a gleeful grin and clapped his hands merrily.

“It’s splendid, isn’t it? Far more impressive than the one in Erebor.”

“It’s beautiful.” Bilbo breathed, unable to believe all the books he was seeing. The bookshelves went up to the tall ceilings and there were aisles after aisles of shelves. They had ladders going to top between floors and Bilbo suddenly found his fingers itching to grab the books.

“The fantasy section is over here.” Ori snagged his hand and pulled him to a shelf near the back. Bofur followed along whistling merrily, careless of the glares he was earning.

“I may never leave.” Bilbo declared when he saw what all they had.”

“Aye, it’s the pride of every dwarven scholar.” Bofur confirmed as he looked around. Ori grabbed up several books for Bilbo to read.

“Why do the have such a large library?” Bilbo asked, distracted by the books. Bofur and Ori both tensed, and he managed to pull his mind away from the book lust. “What is it?”

“Well,” Ori started, turning to him slowly, “We’re the mountain that does the most research.”

“So scholars reside here? I would have thought Erebor would be the center of learning. Being older and everything.”

Ori shared a look with Bofur and Bilbo was beginning to get tired of not being in the know. “It is the center of learning. The Blue Mountain specializes in magic and historical _research_.”

Bilbo’s mouth popped open in a tiny ‘o’ of understanding. He felt rather dense now. “Of course! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t even think…”

“Don’t walk on eggshells, lad.” Bofur said with a smile. “We know it’s odd to wrap your head around.”

“But don’t tell anyone that isn’t part of the royal family or serving you.” Ori hastily added.

Bilbo’s eyes widened. He had to remember who could and couldn’t know? “Who all would that be?”

Ori looked over at Bofur and furrowed his brow before listing names. “Royally? Thrór, Thrain, Dís, Kíli, and Fíli. Other members of the court who know are: Dwalin, Balin, Glóin, and the two of us, who you’ve already met.”

“Bifur and Dori you’ve met as well.” Bofur added Ori nodded his head. “Right, that makes, Nori, Bombur, Óin and Pryftan for you to be introduced to.”  

“The rest know about a curse, but not what it is.”

Bilbo’s head was swimming. The books suddenly didn’t seem so exciting. “Do they really think I’ll cure him? I don’t know anything about dragons…”

“They don’t expect you to.” Bofur quickly replied.

“Besides,” Ori added eagerly, “Thorin has to determine if you’re the right hobbit first.”

“Then what happened to the other hobbits?”

Bofur and Ori both frowned. It wasn’t just a sad look, it also held some anger. Bilbo couldn’t imagine why. He felt a bit like he’d broken another dwarvish custom. “They became friends with our Prince but were not the one. He sent them back to the Shire to the Holes.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed and his face must have looked as confused as he spoke because Ori frowned back at him. “What is it?”

“They didn’t go to the Shire.”

Bofur and Ori both looked at each other, but Bilbo didn’t feel left out this time. He knew what those expression meant. The other two had no idea.

“They’re not in the Blue Mountain. They were escorted down to the border of the Shire.” Bilbo grasped Bofur and Ori’s arms desperately.

“Are you sure? They haven’t been heard from since they were selected in the lottery.”  The dwarfs shared another long look before Ori spoke.

“Bofur, take him back to his quarters. I need to go find Dwalin. He’ll know what to do.” he put the books he’d gathered on an empty shelf and adjusted his writing pack. “If what Bilbo says is true… well…” he gave his head a little shake. “It won’t come to any good.”

“Aye. I’ll get Bifur and we’ll keep him sa-company.”

And then Bilbo was being ushered to his quarters by a determined dwarf more confused than when he had left that morning.

-{}-{o}-{}-

“Ahyrun.”  Bifur grumbled Bofur snorted and shook his head. The two were trying to teach Bilbo a card game that made very little sense. He was feeling shaky and cold as well. He had no idea what Ori was doing, but it felt terrible.

The dwarves hadn’t know about the hobbits. They had returned them to the Shire… Where had they all been? What was happening?

“I am not lying. That’s the card I have. It’s not my fault that you’re losing.” Bifur made a sign in iglishmêk, which Bilbo didn’t need to speak to know the sentiment behind. He laughed.

“Oh, you’re both ganging up on me now.” Bofur lamented and laid his cards down.

A knock on the door brought the game to a halt. They all turned to it expectantly. It opened and Balin appeared with Dori trailing behind him. He looked disapproving to see Bilbo on the floor with Bofur and Bifur.

“Vem. Bifur barked. Bilbo glanced at him before looking back at Balin.

“We’ve come to fetch you for dinner.”

“Red tonight.” Dori added with a grin that was too large to be natural.

“I’m changing again?” Bilbo protested. Balin nodded his head and Dori looked scandalized at the mere thought that Bilbo didn’t want to.

“Best get used to it, Master Bilbo. You’ll be changing at least three times a day.”

“How does anyone manage to get anything done between the changings?” Bilbo asked in disbelief as Dori laid another completely new outfit out. He was changed into it quickly-Bofur fixed him another new braid style as well-and then Balin led the way for Bilbo and Bofur to the Prince’s chambers.

“It’ll be the two of you for tonights dinner. Bofur will serve it to you and then leave you two alone.”

Bilbo proudly did not blush at the way Balin made that sound. He also ignored Bofur’s eyebrow wiggle. Their procession stops outside the door and Balin made to knock on it right as it opens. Dwalin stares wide eyed at the fist in front of his face where Balin was about to knock. Balin chuckled and gave Dwalin a playful tap on the nose.

“Your Hobbit’s here.” Dwalin called back into the room before standing aside and letting Bilbo inside. He grabbed Balin’s arm and mumbled something in khuzdul before he could enter. Bofur watched the two for a moment with a frown before following Bilbo inside and closing the door.

Bilbo could smell roast and potatoes, and it made his stomach rumble eagerly. He hadn’t had near enough food today.

“Go ahead and take a sit, I shall be with you in a moment.” Thorin’s deep voice drifted from a room behind the bed. Bilbo stood uncertainly for a moment until Bofur gave him a little push and pulled the chair out for him.

Bilbo sat down and set his hands on the table before dropping them into his lap awkwardly. He missed his pockets fiercely. He had no idea what to do with his hands.

Bofur stood directly behind him and Bilbo forced himself to exhale. There was no need to feel nervous. He'd already eaten with Thorin and he'd spent time alone with the dwarf Prince and the world hadn't ended.

Thorin emerged from the back room and dropped a hand towel on the bed. His dark hair was pulled back in a thick braid and he was wearing a tunic and breeches. "Sorry for the delay, Bilbo. Dwalin brought me disturbing news and I didn't have time to clean up from my survey of the mines."

"It's no problem, sire."

Thorin took the seat across from Bilbo and frowned. "There are no needs for titles here, Bilbo. Bofur, will you serve?"

"With pleasure." Bilbo's plate was filled with delicious dishes. Thorin took a bite of his roast and Bilbo dug in, hardly noticing the click of the door as Bofur left. They ate in silence for a moment before Thorin asked how the rest of Bilbo's afternoon had gone. He answered, avoiding the mention of the other Hobbits. Thorin's day sounded far less enjoyable. He'd attended the open court and then gone to a meeting with his father and grandfather, ending his evening with a survey of the mines.

The conversation took off and Bilbo was surprised by how easy it was to talk to the dwarf. They finished dinner and before Bilbo quite realized what happened, they were sitting in front of the fire and Thorin was at his side.

“Yes, I agree, Marigold was the better composer. Beaford was exquisite but Marigolds had more mystery.” Bilbo grinned even wider and nodded his head. He was warm and happier than he’d been since he’d went to fetch Frodo from the Gamgee’s garden.

“I can’t believe you know Hobbit composers.” Thorin smiled and flicked his head as though he was trying to get hair out of his eyes.

“Music is a… passion of mine. It is something that all dwarves enjoy, but I have always found it freeing.”

“Do you play?” Bilbo couldn’t hold back his curiosity. Thorin nodded his head.

“I play the harp.” He motioned towards something and Bilbo looked to see a golden harp leaning against the wall.

“Would you play it now?”

Thorin considered him for a long moment before nodding his head. “If you’ll sing.”

Bilbo blushed but nodded his head. “Of course.” Thorin took the harp up and strummed it a few times before adjusting the strings. He strummed it again and gave his head a nod. He arranged his hands against the strings and held still for a moment before gazing at Bilbo. Then, to Bilbo’s shock and delight, he started playing a favorite drinking song of Hobbits.

Bilbo clapped his hands to the beat and sang along. Thorin’s eyes, so close to the color of hydrangeas, sparkled with merriment as he played his harp. He was gifted with the instrument and Bilbo couldn’t imagine what he’d sound like on a serious piece. He moved to a traveling song at the end of the rowdy chorus and Bilbo sang along with that one too.

And he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do a bit of a time jump in the next chapter so that I can move the story along to the main bit. :) Thank you all for your reviews and Kudos, you're seriously blowing my mind! :D
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Ahyrun== Liar  
> Vem== Hello


	6. How Thrilling That Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great Mahal! I never expected such a feedback, thank you all SO much for all the kudos and comments :D They mean a lot to me, I never thought anyone would read this :)
> 
> Hover your mouse over the khuzdul to read the (english) translation. If you don't have a mouse, just scroll to the end notes. Also, anyone curious how I did that, just do the following:  
> <span title="my hover text"> Word that will have a hover </span> 
> 
> whatever you put in the quotes after title will be the words that appear when you hover over the words between the span.

 

  
_Some day my prince will come,_  
 _Someone to call my own,_  
 _and I'll know him the moment we meet,_  
 _For my heart will be skipping a beat._

_-Someday My Prince Will Come (Snow White)_

* * *

_  
_

They settled into a routine after that. He would eat breakfast with Thorin, and then join him for drills on days when he had them. Otherwise they would separate until mid afternoon when Bilbo would join him for a tour through the kingdom’s streets. That involved riding a pony, and little talking, but it was still pleasant. They would have dinner together, whether it was with the court or in Thorin’s chambers. Biblo preferred Thorin’s quarters for the atmosphere they created. He got to learn the most about the prince on those nights. He also couldn’t help but feel that King Thrain did not like him whenever they ate with the court.

News on the hobbits moved slowly. Bofur and Ori kept him as updated as they could but they didn’t know much. Dwalin was currently checking with the other soldiers who had accompanied the Hobbits back to the shire. Unfortunately, several of them were in other dwarf kingdoms currently.

Ori was surprisingly informative on that regard. It seemed he spoke with the Prince’s bodyguard quite frequently.

Ori introduced him to Nori on his second week, and Bilbo found the ginger pleasant, if not a little suspicious. Bombur, Bofur’s brother, was cheery and worked in the kitchens. Bilbo and him formed an instant rapport that ended with Bilbo being allowed an extra meal whenever he wanted.

He was locked in his room three more nights, but he couldn't figure out what they had in common.He dreamed of dragons on those nights.

Thorin remained as intriguing as ever. Bilbo quite liked the Thorin he grew to know when they were alone or with a few friends, but he was uncertain of the Thorin that took over whenever there were a lot of people or royal parties around.

Bilbo was extremely surprised to discover he had been there for nearly three weeks.

“King Thrór is returning to Erebor tonight." Bilbo looked up from Myrtle, who he was brushing, and frowned.

"He is?" Thorin nodded and continued brushing his own pony.

"Aye." He grasped a few  strands of Billa's hair and began to braid them.Bilbo watched the surprisingly tender act with a soft smile. It was nice seeing Thorin tend to the animal, even if it did make something ache in his chest. "We'll see him off with a feast."

"That'll be nice." Bilbo picked at a tangle in Myrtles hair and wondered once again why he felt so awkward at moments like these. He could see sadness in Thorin's eyes and his instinct was to comfort the dwarf, but his brain insisted that was a terrible idea.

"I should like it very much if you would accompany me."

Bilbo very nearly blushed, but he didn't and he felt stronger for it. "I'll be happy to go with you." The battle Bilbo had just won was lost as he instantly blushed when he realized the way that had sounded. "I mean, I'll keep you company. As your friend-er-hobbit." Bilbo finished lamely.

“Right, then I’ll see you there.” Thorin turned around and swept away with a whoosh of fur and fabric and Bilbo’s heart decided it wanted to try and pound it’s way out of his chest. He wasn’t quite certain what had just happened.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand him.” Bilbo whispered to Myrtle. He gave her nose one last pat and left the stable. It was a bit of a walk back to the castle, and an even longer walk to his room after that, but the air was nice and the sun bright so Bilbo saw no reason to pout.

He made it down three paths before he realized he was being followed. There was a dark haired dwarf in light armor that had been keeping pace with him since he left the stables. Bilbo squared his shoulders and decided to confront the issue head on. Hobbits were never creatures of subtlety.

“Sir, if you intend on following me, at least have the courtesy of standing beside me so that I might have company.” The dwarf drew to a stop and Bilbo smiled cheekily over his shoulder at him. Dwarves were such stoic creatures, it was fun when he could catch one of them off guard. A moment later he felt the dwarf drop in step with him.

“You have keen eyes, for a hobbit.” That was just a bit too degrading for Bilbo’s taste but he didn’t respond to it.

“Hobbit’s are naturally aware of their surroundings. Being the smallest of Middle Earth’s creatures, we have to be alert.”

“Indeed, Master Bilbo. It would seem you are prepared.” Something niggled uneasily at Bilbo but he couldn’t place what it was. The dwarf knew his name but a lot of dwarves did. He was the only Hobbit in the kings court. The dwarf had said it oddly though, as if he was trying to make it clear he had more power than Bilbo.

“It would seem you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

“So it would seem.” The dwarf answered haughtily. He tossed his black hair over his shoulder and Bilbo couldn’t help but think that Thorin made it look more impressive.

“Tell me, dwarf, why are you following a Hobbit through the streets?” Bilbo turned the corner and felt his shoulders relax slightly as the door to the castle loomed in front of him.

“Perhaps I am curious why the Hobbit is in the streets. Alone.”

Now Bilbo wasn’t uncertain. He was scared. He didn’t like this dwarf, or his creepy mannerism. He took a steadying breath and purposefully did _not_ speed up his pace. He wouldn’t let the dwarf know he was getting to him. Bilbo did find himself desperately wishing he had heeded Dwalin’s advice and carried a dagger on his person. He had nothing to defend himself with if it came down to it.

“Bilbo!” The wonderfully cheerful voice echoed from behind and Bilbo spun around with a tellingly large smile as Bofur jogged up to them. He was carrying several bags of items and had an apple in one hand that made Bilbo smile even larger.

“Bofur,” he stepped towards his friend and took the apple that Bofur handed over. Bofur adjusted the bags in his grip and frowned at the dwarf that had been following Bilbo.

“Pryftan? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be doing rounds in the castle?” Bilbo felt some of the fear that had gripped him ease away. The dwarf’s name was Pryftan? He knew about Thorin’s condition then. His eyes narrowed at the use of his name but he slapped on a pleasant smile so quickly Bilbo half thought he’d imagined the look.

“I was merely guarding the Hobbit. He should not be out alone.” Pryftan said with a self important air. It rubbed Bilbo the wrong way.

“He also doesn’t like being referred to as if he wasn’t standing right here.” Bofur chuckled and clapped Bilbo’s back.

“I’ll take him from here. Dwalin has another guard waiting for us at the castle and I’m quite handy with a mattock.”

Pryftan bowed stiffly and then turned and swept away. “I don’t like him.” Bilbo said before he could stop himself. Bofur laughed and started walking towards the castle.

“Aye, he rubs most people that way. Still, he’s in Thrain’s favor so the rest of us just nod and smile whenever he’s around.” He jiggled the bags again, trying to make them comfortable. Bilbo would have gladly grabbed a few but he didn’t want to get Bofur in trouble. “Why were you alone though? I would have waited for you at the stable but I thought Thorin was accompanying you.”

“He told me that I was attending the feast tonight. I told him as his friend, I’d be happy to and he left.” Bilbo frowned and dropped his gaze to the cobbled floor in thought as they passed into the castle. No guard joined them but Bilbo didn’t make a mention of it. “He seemed upset, actually.”

“He did?” Bofur looked gleeful at the thought and Bilbo felt betrayed.

“Well I’m glad that you seem to find his displeasure with me such a happy state of affairs.” He snapped. Bofur laughed and nearly dropped one of his bags. Bilbo fisted his hands and sped up. Bofur caught up with him with no trouble at all.

“You are such a silly thing. It is good news, and if you can’t see that, I suspect you’ll understand why it is soon enough. Come on. Dori will want to take you to the tailors for some adjustments if you’re to go to a feast.”

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

Court clothing was uncomfortable. There was nothing else to say. It was scratchy and stiff and too thick and did not breathe at all. He wanted to scratch his arms and loosen his jacket but that was hardly court decour. Hobbits might have been more accustomed to softer fabrics but they had exceptional manners.

Bofur was wearing a blue outfit like the rest of the serving staff and he looked distinctly uncomfortable which made Bilbo feel infinitely better. If he was going to be miserable, he was going to drag Bofur along with him.

“So you are Bilbo Baggins, our new Hobbit.” Bilbo nodded his head politely and offered a smile to the dwarf that took the seat next to him. He had dark hair and a thick beard that looked silky to the touch.

“Yes, I stick out a bit.” He indicated the area around his mouth. “I’m practically a scandal with my beardless face.”

The dwarf’s brow furrowed a bit. “Are you uncomfortable? I know how much Hobbits dislike scandal.”

That was why Bilbo liked this place. As cold as dwarves could be, they were surprisingly well learned on Hobbit culture. They also seemed genuinely concerned with his comfort.

“Oh, I’ve always been a bit of a scandal. I’m afraid I was always too interested in adventure stories to be seen as normal. Goodness, I would have rather read than gone to visit relatives.”

“And was there a female Hobbit back home?” The dwarf asked with an amused lilt. Bilbo looked at the dark haired dwarf and realized with a start that the dwarf was a female, and he felt ridiculous for not having made the connection earlier. She had far more feminine features and her eyes were lovely. She also wore flower shaped beads in her beard.

“Oh no, I was too worried with Frodo to have a lass on the side.”

“Frodo?” The dwarf still hadn’t offered a name, but Bilbo didn’t mind. The lady was familiar somehow, but he couldn’t quite place why.

“He’s my cousin. His parents, Drogo and Primula, were very dear to me when I was younger. They passed away a few seasons ago and I took over his care.”

“But aren’t you just of age?”

“Yes. I had to have the Brandybucks watch him till I could.”

The dwarf nodded her head as though that made all the sense in the world. Bilbo looked back out to the feast floor at all the talking noble dwarves. He hadn’t spoken to Thorin yet and he was feeling homesick. Which was the reason he spoke the next words. “I would love to write him a letter but I don’t know if he’d receive it.”

“He lives in Hobbiton?” Bilbo nodded his head. “I would be happy to take your cousin a letter, and anyone else who you would care to write. I would need them by tomorrow. That is when my Grandfather’s party sets off for Erebor.”

Bilbo normally would have realized what that meant, however, he was far too ecstatic at the thought of writing Frodo.

“Would you? It would mean a lot to him.”

“I give you my word, as Dís, daughter of Thrain, that I will deliver any letters you have.”

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in an utterly unflattering and disbelieving manner. “Dís? You’re the sister of Thorin?” Bilbo flushed and immediately bowed at his waist. “I mean, it’s an honor to meet you, Majesty. Bilbo Baggins at your service.”

Dís laughed, light and musically. “Bilbo, you don’t need to offer me your service. I’m only disappointed that I didn’t have the chance to meet you earlier.” She glanced around the hall merrily, her eyes landing on something in the back for a long moment before looking back at Bilbo. “I’m sure we could have had such fun.”

“Would you care for a drink, Milady?” Bofur asked, suddenly appearing. He handed a glass to Bilbo and smiled broadly. “Menu nadad tanak. ” He said to Dís as he took her empty glass. Bilbo frowned in confusion when Dís’ smile became absolutely wicked at whatever the khuzdul had meant.

“Indeed? Then I shall make the most of this situation. Khayum u men nadad Khaza. " Bofur took the goblet away to fill it and Dís turned her full attention to Bilbo. “Sit with me, melekûn.” Bilbo nodded his head and followed the dwarf-lady to the table. Melekûn was the only khuzdul word he knew the meaning of. ‘Hobbit.’

He felt a bit like he was being used for something, but he wasn’t going to object to the King’s daughter and Thorin’s sister.

Bilbo sat down and Dís slid into the seat beside his. A bit too closely. Fíli sat at his other side, and Kíli on his other side.

“Bilbo!” He cheered and looped an arm around his shoulders. Bilbo smiled unsurely at the other dwarf.

“Hello, Fíli.”

“Here’s your drink, Milady.” Bofur set her goblet down and stood behind Bilbo. Again, he was a little too close for propriety. Bilbo was feeling a bit smothered.

“Hello, Uncle.” Kíli called cheerily, and a moment later Thorin sat across from Bilbo, Dís, Fíli, and Kíli. He didn’t look happy and Biblo felt his smile falter. Had he done something wrong?

The meal was served, and Thorin’s glare didn’t lesson.  Dís, Fíli, and Kíli kept the conversation going and lively during the dinner, but Thorin’s dark mood never seemed to lessen. It made Bilbo squirm uncomfortably, and something in his gut tightened at the constant frown. He couldn’t help but feel that he was doing something wrong each time one of the dwarves made him laugh.

Bofur even joined into the conversation with a witty remark every few minutes. If not for Thorin’s ever darkening glare it would have been a splendid evening. As it was, Bilbo was rather grateful when the last course was taken away and the nobles were encouraged to once again mingle.

“Come, Mister Boggins,” Kíli laughed. “I would show you the balcony. I know Hobbits enjoy the feel of moonlight on their skin.”

“Kíli,” Thorin barked and Bilbo balked. Kíli looked utterly unconcerned about the deadly serious voice of his Uncle, “go see your Great Grandfather before he departs. I have much to discuss with the halfling.”

Bilbo pushed his annoyance at once again being referred to as if he wasn’t there aside. Thorin grabbed his arm and nearly dragged him out of the feasting hall and to a more secluded room. He walked straight through and suddenly Bilbo found himself standing on a balcony overlooking the city beneath the castle. The moon was bright in the night sky and the stars were sparkling more intensely than Bilbo had ever seen them.

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed, his eyes widening at the vast beauty. Thorin released his arm but Bilbo didn’t notice. He stepped to the edge and gripped the white stone in his hands.

“Do you enjoy the view, Bilbo?” Bilbo nodded his head  absently and searched for familiar constellations. He could see the hedgehog on the right and it made him smile.

"Which are you smiling at?" Bilbo blinked and started to look over his shoulder at Thorin only to realize the dwarf was standing near enough to touch. It made Bilbo's heart beat quicken. He could smell the scent of metal and smoke on him, which was a scent Bilbo was beginning to associate with Thorin.

"The hedgehog." He stammered after what was probably too long a moment. Thoin smiled and it made his eyes seem brighter. “What is your favorite?” Bilbo squeaked the words, solely so that there wouldn’t be silence. It was too heavy and Thorin’s gaze was too intense. Thorin remained looking at him for a bit longer before pointing out to the sky and turning his gaze to it.

“The hammer. It’s right-”

“There,” Bilbo went to the edge of the balcony and looked at the seven stars that made up the constellation. “Fíli showed it to me while we traveled here.” Bilbo rocked on his feet. “Your nephews are quite the stargazers.”

“My nephews are easily distracted.” Thorin grumbled. Bilbo’s head snapped to the side in surprise at how dark Thorin’s tone was. “They spend too much time on frolicking and not enough on learning.”

“They seem quite dedicated to me.”

“Tonight was an example. They should have been engaging other members of the court in conversation and they instead spent the entire time talking to my sister, each other, a servant, and you.”

“They were merely trying to make me feel more comfortable, milord.” Bilbo whispered, dropping his eyes to the village below.

“It was not _their_ place.” And for all Thorin's grandeur, the words were almost petulant. “You were to sit by _me_.” Bilbo felt everything around him change as he realized what was going on. Thorin’s hand was sitting next to his, so close to touching. It had inched closer to his while they talked, but it had stopped when Bilbo had mentioned Fíli.

Bilbo found himself frozen with his hands against the balcony and sucked in a shocked breath. Thorin was jealous. Dís, Fíli, and Kíli had known he would be and had encouraged it. That’s what had been going on at dinner. Even Bofur had been in on it.

Thorin was _jealous_ that he, Bilbo Baggins, was giving someone else his attention.

Bilbo had seen jealously play over many times in his life. He’d watch Hobbit lads chase Hobbit lasses and he’d always found it amusing how upset they would get when someone else showed attention to the one they liked. He had never been on the receiving end though. He had never had someone get jealous over him. He’d never been worth enough to someone to be jealous of.

It was a strange feeling to be sure. Even with the evidence in front of his eyes, Bilbo wasn’t sure he believed it. It was simply preposterous for Thorin to ever be jealous over someone as unspectacular as Bilbo.

Bilbo finally realized that he was staring at the stars still and that his eyes were drying out. He blinked rapidly to soothe them and tilted his head to stare at Thorin. He stood straight, as always, with his own eyes turned towards the hammer. His hands were clasped behind his back and Bilbo couldn’t believe how noble the dwarf looked. He couldn’t have dreamed up someone so magnificent.

“Thorin?” his voice came out hoarse than he’d wanted but Bilbo pushed on. “Would you look at me, please?”

Thorin kept his eyes facing forward but his hands had tensed. “Why?”

“Because I need courage.” Bilbo watched the length of Thorin’s throat bob with a hard swallow before Thorin turned slowly, his gaze heavy and guarded. Bilbo’s heart faltered but he pressed on. He’d never done anything like this before so he hoped he didn’t make too much of a fool of himself. He wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

Thorin made to say something else but Bilbo cut him off. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Thorin’s in the briefest of kisses. When he pulled back he could feel that his cheeks were on fire and Thorin was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Bilbo was still standing too close to the dwarf and he felt as if someone had poured metal into his gut.

He’d been wrong. Thorin didn’t care at all and now-

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, and then he had a hand on Bilbo’s waist and the other was reaching up to cup his jaw. He tilted Bilbo’s head up slightly and Bilbo was certain that Thorin would feel his pulse pounding. Thorin smiled slightly, his eyes dancing in the moon light. Then he leaned forward until his lips met Bilbo’s. Now Bilbo could focus on the sensation. He’d moved too quickly previously to note much of anything. Thorin’s lips were warm and smooth against his, and Bilbo’s knees went weak, much to his horror. Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo’s waist so there was no fear of falling, and proceeded to kiss the pleased hobbit quite thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for what that all meant.  
> Menu nadad tanak. ==Your brother is coming  
> Khayum u men nadad Khaza.==Victory to my brother dwarf
> 
> More characters introduced in this piece, and three weeks covered! I can finally start in on the part of the story I'm wanting to write :D Let me know what you think.
> 
> Also, In my world, Ori and Dwalin are going to be friends (possibly more ;) ) and gossipy when alone because I loved the friendship Graham and Adam (Dwalin and Ori’s actors) had on set.


	7. Indescribable feeling

  
_A whole new world_   
_A dazzling place I never knew_   
_But when I'm way up here_   
_It's crystal clear_   
_that now I'm in a whole new world with you_   


_-A Whole New World (Aladdin)_

* * *

_  
_  


Bilbo was standing outside his door with no idea how he had gotten there. Thorin had Bilbo’s hands between his own and his voice had deepened to a delicious, husky note.

“I will see you for breakfast, Bilbo.” He removed one of his hands from Bilbo’s and stroked his cheek before brushing a lock of hair back off Bilbo’s cheek. His skin tingled under Thorin’s touch and his breathing went rather odd. Thorin let his hand follow the lock of hair down to cup his cheek. His calloused thumb brushed the bottom of Bilbo’s ear and Bilbo shuddered at the intimate touch.

“I-what then?”

Thorin’s gaze softened and BIlbo realized he’d never been looked at like Thorin was looking at him. There was obvious desire-which would have been enough to make Bilbo light headed-but there was something deeper. A emotion it took Bilbo a moment to recognize. Adoration.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that. His own chest was tight with emotions he didn’t fully understand and he felt oddly like he could fly. There was also a terrible uncertainty and fear that whatever had happened tonight was not ever going to be mentioned again.

“We will talk. I have much to explain.” Thorin’s thumb brushed his ear again before the dwarf bent down and brushed Bilbo’s lips with a soft kiss. “Tak sanu yemezu,  Bilbo.” He let go of his cheek and bent down to the hand he still held. He lifted it, and eyes still locked on Bilbo’s, he kissed it.

“Tomorrow,” Bilbo squeaked, and immediately blushed. Thorin grinned (and it was still splendid) and straightened up. Bilbo, realizing the dwarf was waiting for him to go into his room. He blushed and fumbled with the door for a moment before pushing it open and stepping into his room. He could smell the daisies Thorin had had delivered that very morning. It had taken him an entire week to realize it was the prince sending them to his room.

Bilbo turned around and looked at Thorin, with his hand on the door. “I look forward to breakfast, my prince.” Thorin nodded and stepped back. Bilbo stared at him for one long moment and then quietly shut the door before leaning against it. He stood still for a few endless seconds, listening to Thorin walk away.

“Bilbo?” The bathroom door opened and slightly frantic looking Bofur emerged from it, still in his servant wear.

“Bofur?” The dwarf sagged against the doorway and let out a deep breath.

“Oh thank Maha-where were you? We lost you during the feast and no one could find you.” Bofur pushed himself up and crossed the room purposefully. He tugged Bibo up and surveyed him with obvious worry.

“I-Thorin-we were on the balcony.” Bilbo’s cheeks heated up and he mentally cursed his Baggins side. Bofur’s expression immediately went from worried to lecherous.

“Alone?” He dragged the syllables out and made it sound far more dirty than it had any right to.

“Yes.” Bilbo said boldly. He stepped away from Bofur and went to his bed. “And don’t think I didn’t catch on to what you and the others were trying to do at dinner.”

“We weren’t going for subtlety.” Bofur said dismissively. He rocked on his heels for a moment and Bilbo caught a glimpse of the earlier worry again.

"Why were you worried?" Bofur’s eyes widened and he shifted back on his feet, caught off guard.Bilbo felt worry snake through his hazy, happy mind for the first time.

“Because it’s my job to look after yea.” Bofur said easily. He went to the desk and took out a few sheets of paper and ink. “Dís told me to tell you not to forget the letters.” Bilbo took the materials from the dwarf eagerly and scooted back on his bed. Bofur went over to the other side of the room and started to pull clothes out of the bathroom to fold. They sat in silence for a while, until Bilbo had finished his letter to Hamfast and started writing one to Frodo.

“Bofur?”

“Yes?”

“You knew that Thorin… Well…”

Bofur snorted and nodded his head. His hair bounced with the motion and nearly touched the tips of his hat. “Well anyone watching you two could tell that the prince wanted to do a little one-on-one sword practice with you.”

“We already were?” Bilbo said, confused. Bofur snorted and shook his head.

“It was a joke, lad.”

“I don’t get it.”

Bofur glanced at him. “Think of your last tumble. I know you haven’t tumbled with the prince yet, but think-”

“What does tripping and falling have to do with sword fighting?”

“You,” Bofur said slowly, standing up with the folded laundry in his hand, “have to be having me on.” Bilbo shook his head.

“No, Hobbits are naturally light on their feet. We seldom trip.”

Bofur stared at him for a solid ten seconds and then threw his head back and laughed. Bilbo flushed and fidgeted, drawing absent circles on a spare page of paper.

“Oh, you are such a laugh!” The dwarf finally managed before giving his head a little shake. “I was saying that the prince was undressing you with his eyes.” He tilted his head and sat back down. “It wasn’t Orcist I was talking about.”

Bilbo blinked in confusion, and then he realized what a ‘sword’ could mean and he felt his cheeks get hotter than he’d ever felt them get.

“You’re terrible!” Bilbo squeaked before focusing on his writing. Bofur laughed and went back to folding. They sat quietly while Bilbo focused on his letter to Frodo and tried not to think about what breakfast would bring. He liked Thorin, though he’d never considered anything more to be possible. The Prince was kind, and noble, and brilliant. He had a heart of gold that he seldom let others see, but was apparent if you looked for it. He was forever doing everything he could to ease the burdens of others and he always had a smile for Bilbo. Not that he ever let anyone else see it.The kiss opened his mind to possibilities he hadn’t even known existed. To actually be allowed to pursue something more... Well, Bilbo rather enjoyed the idea. And if Bofur was to be believed, the Prince had been hiding his feelings for quite sometime.

Whatever it brought, the morning would be interesting.

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

Bilbo stood outside of Thorin’s room and fidgeted again. Bofur kept silent at his side but Bilbo could feel the huge smile aimed at him. He ignored it as well as he could. Balin was taking forever to announce him this morning.

The door finally opened and Balin bowed low, letting him in. Dwalin stood up from the far corner of the room and strode towards Balin to take his leave with his brother but Bilbo hardly noticed them moving. Thorin was standing in front of his bedroom window looking out over the city. He looked as if he was clothed in sunlight and he appeared more grand and splendid than Bilbo had ever seen him. He lost his breath at the sight of him and felt something light and winged flutter to life in his chest.

Thorin didn’t move until the door had shut with Balin and Dwalin’s exit. Bofur remained behind Bilbo and didn’t say anything as the prince turned to face them. His eyes lightened as they took in Bilbo who still couldn’t quite remember how to breathe properly.

“Bilbo, it is good to see you.”

“And you as well, My prince.” Bilbo lowered his head in reverence, mainly so he could try and figure out how to make his lungs work again. He felt short on breath and his skin was tingling. He didn’t feel terribly hungry for breakfast either.

“Please, just call me Thorin.” The dwarf had managed to reach Bilbo while he had his head lowered and he found he was very aware of the small distance between the two of them.

He had no idea what was going on.

“Of course, Thorin.” Thorin smiled and Bilbo felt his heart flutter happily at the sight. Thorin didn’t smile nearly enough for his taste. The dwarf took his hand and gently kissed the back of it before straightening and motioning towards the little table they ate at. Bilbo went with a silly little smile on his lips. Thorin sat next to him and Bofur served them quickly before starting towards the door.

“Bofur?” Thorin called, stopping the dwarf’s retreat. “I need you to stay. Serve yourself something to eat. You can sit by the fire.” He motioned towards the soft arm chair and Bofur’s eyes widened in momentary surprise before he took on an entirely delighted look. Bilbo didn’t understand. The chair wasn’t that soft.

“Gladly, milord.” Bofur grabbed a few crumpets and sat on the chair with a look of anticipation. Thorin huffed out a little noise that Bilbo knew to be a laugh and he had the distinct impression that he was missing something.

Thorin took a sip of whatever was in his goblet and closed his eyes. Bilbo didn’t think he was savoring the taste.

“Bilbo, I wish to tell you of my desire and intention to court you, if you will have me.”

Bilbo’s mouth, much to his horror, dropped open in utter shock. He stayed that way for several long seconds before he finally managed to speak. “Me?” It was squeaky and Bilbo would have flushed if it had happened in any other situation. Thorin regarded him with a very wry nod.

“Yes, Master Baggins. You. You, the Hobbit who has utterly enchanted and bewitched me, down to my very soul.” Bilbo’s breath caught and his heart, which had been faltering, began to beat doubly fast. “I should like nothing more than to be allowed to court you as my intended. I know you do not know much of dwarvish customs, but this is not an idle request. My courtship would take place with the intention of making you my consort. I would pursue you as the most valuable of gems and attempt to prove to you that I am worthy to being considered for your life partner. I would attempt to prove my strength and skills, my mental capacity, and my ability to provide a safe and happy future for you.” Thorin leaned forward in his chair and took the hand Bilbo had sitting on the table. His fingers were warm and Bilbo nearly jerked at the spark the touch seemed to initiate.

“I-” Bilbo had no idea how the proper way to respond to a dwarf’s court was. He knew the way to for the Shire, though he’d never had the chance, but their cultures were vastly different. He looked at Thorin’s eyes and bit his lip in worry. It was apparently the wrong thing to do because something darkened in Thorin’s eyes before they became impassive and he withdrew his hand. Bilbo scrambled after it and decided that anything would work well enough.

“Thorin,” he swallowed and continued, “I hear and gladly accept your courtship. I will try to prove myself worthy of your interest and protection. I will attempt to show that I can provide for you a warm home, safe covers, and a table full of food. I will pledge myself to only you, in consideration to be your life mate.” Bilbo’s hands shook around Thorin who wrapped his other hand around the trembling digits. He brought the hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against the skin. He held his lips there for an endlessly long moment before releasing him. He reached into his coat slowly and pulled a small box from its confines. It was intricately carved and covered in tiny runes that Bilbo couldn’t read.

“Then I present you with my first courting gift.” Thorin’s voice had dropped to a deep note and it was one Bilbo wouldn’t mind hearing frequently. He pressed three of the runes and the box made a churning noise. The top popped open and Bilbo stared wide-eyed. That was impressive. Inside was a single silver colored bead that was carved in the same style as Thorin’s. It was a little smaller than the ones he wore in his own hair. Thorin removed it with gentle fingers and held it out for Bilbo to examine. It was cool to the touch and the detail work on it was truly amazing. Bilbo itched to know what the runes meant.

“With your permission, I would braid the bead into your hair so that all would know of my intent.”

Bilbo considered for a moment before winging it. He’d have to hunt Ori down this afternoon and get a far better understanding of dwarvish courting customs. “You have my permission, and my gratitude.”

Thorin smiled and his eyes lit up brighter than Bilbo had ever seen them. His heart gave a hard thump in his chest as Thorin stood and moved to kneel at his side. He undid one of the braids Bofur had put in and grabbed several more strands of hair. “For dwarves, braiding is a very important act.” He explained as his fingers did complicated things to Bilbo’s hair. “Not everyone may braid another’s hair. Family, servants and lovers are generally the only ones permitted to do the task.” He slipped the bead into Bilbo’s hair and continued to speak. As he wove the strands together his finger would brush against Bilbo’s ear, causing the hobbit to shiver and suck in a startled breath. Bofur had braided his hair countless times since he’d arrived at the Blue Mountains, but it had never felt like this did. “Braids can also mean different things. The ornaments we braid into our hairs as well.” He did something else and his breath blew against Bilbo’s ear. He had to bite his lip, hard, not to moan.

“This is a courtship braid. That, matched with the bead, will show all that you are being pursued by me.” Bilbo nodded his head and swallowed as Thorin released the braid. He pressed a quick kiss to the bead and stood up. Bilbo regarded him with bright eyes and his hands fluttered uncertainly. He swallowed again and squared his shoulders.

“What may I do to show that you are being pursued by me?”

Thorin’s eyes portrayed his delight and Bilbo felt it warm him to his very marrow.

“What do Hobbits do?” He asked as he took his seat again. Bilbo, feeling more sure from the delight in Thorin’s expression, looked around the room for inspiration. He found what he was looking for and smiled easily.

“We crown our intendeds in flowers. I should like to combine our traditions, if that is alright.”

Thorin inclined his head and Bilbo stood up eagerly. He crossed the room to Thorin’s bedside table, being careful to keep his eyes off of the actual bed less he blush, and reached for the flowers he kept on the table. Bilbo was certain they were there to make him feel more at ease and it made his heart want to burst with affection. He considered the flowers for a moment before snatching up the honeysuckle and making his way back to Thorin.

He pulled his chair around so that he was beside Thorin and set the flowers on the table. “In the Shire, Honeysuckle means bonds of love. They’re always used as the base for crowns. I would like to braid it into your hair, if that’s alright.”

“I would like that.” Thorin’s smile was tender and his eyes soft and Bilbo found he had to look away if he wanted to think properly. he took hold of three thin strands of Thorin’s hair and began to weave the flowers into the braid. He quickly found himself thankful he’d spent so much time observing Bofur’s braiding techniques in mirrors. When he finished Thorin had one braid, mostly hidden by his thick hair, full of flowers. Bilbo could smell the sweet fragrance and it made him feel oddly warm to think Thorin would be able to smell the flowers wherever he went. He sat back and met Thorin’s eyes with his own.

A knock on the door disrupted them.

“Enter.” Thorin’s voice was loud in the quiet room. The door pushed open and two heads peered through.

“Uncle, Amad  wants us to-hello, Bilbo!” Fíli practically crowed his name and his brother was grinning in an almost manic way.

“Dís wants what?” Thorin demanded. Fíli and Kíli didn’t look the slightest abashed.

“To tell you that she approves.” And they shut the door with a pronounced wink.

“Mahal give me patiences.” Thorin muttered and Bilbo took his hand. This would be nice.

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

“Why did it not occur to either of you to tell me anything about courting?” Bilbo demanded the moment he had Ori and Bofur alone. He’d finally eaten with Thorin before the Prince had left to aid his father with court.

Ori was grinning and Bofur hadn’t stopped smirking since they’d left the Prince’s chambers. “Why did Thorin insist you stay?”

“Because a declaration of intent has to have a witness. He probably thought you’d be more comfortable with me than Balin or Dwalin.”

“Dwalin? He didn’t tell me anything!” Ori seemed scandalized by the lack of information and Bilbo snorted before taking a seat on the cushion next to Ori.

“He probably didn’t know.” He glared at Bofur for good measure before continuing. “Though half the kingdom seemed to suspect something. Not that they shared that information."

Ori waved his hand dismissively. “We all noticed his attraction.”

Bilbo spluttered and earned another laugh from Bofur who he pushed of the cushion onto the floor. They’d be earning the disapproving stares of the record keepers in a moment, but Bilbo hardly cared. The library was one of the only places they could be relatively alone and he enjoyed Bofur’s loudness and Ori’s enthusiasm. Besides, he was being courted by the Prince heir. That should earn him the right to talk as loud as he wanted in the library.

“All that aside,” Bilbo said loudly over Bofur’s laughter, “I have a few questions.”

Ori sat straight and eager. He gripped his book with his gloved hands and Bilbo imagined he was probably itching to get his fingers on a quill. “Like?”

“Well,” he blushed and averted his eyes. Bofur wasn’t laughing anymore but he didn’t know if he could take the dwarves teasing on this, no matter how good natured. “I-I’ve never actually been pursued before. I have no idea what to expect and how to react and what I should do. I also have no idea about what goes on with dwarf courtships.”

Bofur, mercifully, did not laugh. Ori’s eyes brightened and he didn’t look put off by Bilbo’s lack of knowledge at all.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Well, what’s normal? I mean, courting wise?” Bofur sat up properly and scooted back against the cushion. He looked as if he was getting ready for a story so Bilbo did the same. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. Ori pulled his own legs up and crossed them over each other and set his book on top. Bilbo had the odd feeling that they looked a bit like a hobbit lasses.

“Well, it starts with gifts-which never stop but the first one is the most important because it starts the entire process. If you accept his token of affection then he’ll begin to show his prowess. He’ll show you how well he can fight and ask you to clean his weapon-Orcrist!” Ori hastily added when Bofur opened his mouth. “He’ll give you hand made items and there will be a lot of hair braiding.”  
“What about affection?” Bilbo asked rather boldly.  He didn’t blush either.

“Oh, it’s allowed. You’re allowed free reign on any- wait, is that improper for Hobbits? You’ll want to warn him.”

Bilbo still didn’t blush. “Anything that brings comfort and pleasure is allowed for Hobbits.”

“Good, I don’t think Thorin would have been too happy about that.” Bofur said and pulled his pipe out of his pocket. Bilbo frowned and fidgeted uncomfortably. He liked the kissing and hand holding and touching, but he wasn’t ready for everything yet. Would Thorin expect it? Bofur must have noticed Bilbo’s shuffling because he promptly continued. “He’d hate to think he broke a Hobbit rule by kissing you. He’d cut off his own beard before he dishonored you.”

“Actually,” Biblo chuckled, “I kissed him.” Bofur looked genuinely surprised and Bilbo thought he should probably be insulted.

“Oh-dwarves are also very possessive.” Ori said after a moment. “We’re a jealous race by nature, and we covet things we think are ours. Thorin will be extremely possessive if he thinks someone is trying to hit on you.”

Bofur let out a puff of smoke and pointed the tip of his pipe at Ori. “Hadn’t you best tell him about the special circumstances? This isn’t a typical courtship. If the Prince is courting him, he’s Thorin’s One.”

Ori looked down at his book and ran his fingers over the cover. “No,” he finally said slowly, “if he knows about all that, it might be too much.” he glanced up with a small smile. “It won’t make a difference in the courtship itself. I’ll tell him later.” He looked back down at his notebook and ran his fingers over a particular rune in the bottom left corner several times. Bilbo had seen it somewhere but he couldn’t quite place it. “He might be frightened for no reason if we told him now.”

And now Bilbo desperately wanted to know what put that contemplative look on the young dwarves face, and what being a ‘One’ meant. Still, something in Ori’s expression and the way he had spoken made Bilbo hesitate. He’d wait.

Besides, he needed to think of something to get his prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tak sanu yemezu = I'll see you tomorrow  
> Amad= Mother


	8. Wish I could be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! I'm tearing up at how utterly sweet your reviews have been! I'm so indescribably happy that you're enjoying this story and blown away by the amount of hits and kudos you've given me :) Feel free to ask me any questions or comments :) I try to respond to everything...

 

  
_Look at this trove,_  
 _Treasures untold,_  
 _How many wonders can one cavern hold?_  
 _Looking around here you'd think_  
 _"Sure, he's got everything"_  
 _I've got gadgets and gizmo's a-plenty_  
 _I've got woozits and whatzits galore_  
 _But who cares?_  
 _No big deal,_  
 _I want more!_

_-Part of your world (Little Mermaid)_

* * *

_  
_

Bilbo’s schedule changed very little in the next weeks. He still dined with Thorin, he still practiced drills with Thorin, and he still spent any free time he had with Thorin.

Everything else changed. Each touch meant more, he got hit more during practice because he was distracted. Food seemed more flavorful and their colors brighter. He laughed more around the dwarf and felt lighter than he had ever before. People around the court acted oddly around him as if they weren’t sure of his status, but the dwarfs he liked- Bofur, Ori, Bifur, Dori, Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, Oin, Bombur, and Nori all treated him like normal. They teased him more but that wasn’t strange. Fíli and Kíli were ecstatic at the courtship and offered him aid with any craft he tried. They also teased their Uncle endlessly, much to Bilbo’s amusement.

There was the question of his future, which now had the bright light of Thorin in it, but Bilbo had no idea about anything else. When he had left the Shire he had done it as a permanent thing. He had never expected to see his beautiful rolling hills again, and he had certainly never expected to see his cousin again. Thanks to Dís, and several other trusted dwarves, Bilbo was writing to his dear, little, cousin. He suspected he would even be allowed to visit him if he wanted.

Thorin was still cursed though, and Bilbo would not leave his prince until he wasn’t.

Thrain was distant as ever, which was okay because Bilbo rarely ever had to associate with the dwarf king. When he did he was followed by dark eyes that were untrusting and hateful. Bilbo didn’t know why, but the King did not like him in the least.

There were countless gifts. Not useless baubles that he had no interest in either. These were trinkets that he needed and adored. There were new belt buckles, beads for his hair, beautifully bound books, and a tiny silver sword that was beautifully inscribed and leaf shaped. It looked a bit like Orcrist and Bilbo was quite certain he’d never seen a more beautiful blade. In return Bilbo did all he could. He made Thorin meals daily, learned how to handle leather to make him new gloves, quilted him a new blanket, and braided flowers into his hair every day.

Thorin would look at him as well. Long looks that left Bilbo flushed and breathless and dreaming of what could be. Gazes filled with passion and hunger that made Bilbo wonder how his legs continued to hold him. Still, the dwarf hadn’t done more than kissed him, as if sensing that Bilbo didn’t know what he was doing. He was endlessly gentle, and everything Bilbo could have ever wanted. He felt like he was living a fairy tale.

Until the nights he was locked in his room. Bofur would always stay with him on those nights. Dori, Ori, Bifur and Bombur would show up some of the time as well. Those were long nights and Bilbo always felt torn. He could hear screams and growls and cries that froze him to his core on those nights, and he wanted to flee from them and run to their source as quick as his large feet would. Thorin made those sounds, and it broke his heart to think his dwarf-dragon form or not-in that kind of pain.

He still didn’t know what made him turn.

It was such a night that Bilbo found himself pushing his plate of food away (a new dish Bombur was very excited about) and walking around the floor. Bofur kept playing his flute while Bombur and Ori looked worried.

“It’ll be alright lad. Don’t fret.” Bilbo shook his head, not dissuaded. They had this argument each time he was locked up.

“It’s getting worse. Stop trying to convince me otherwise” Bofur paused on playing his tune and regarded Bilbo warily. Ori pushed the book he was reading aside and frowned.

“What have you heard?”

“Him!” Bilbo snapped and pointed at the door. “He never stops screaming! And have you seen the chains they’ve got in the treasure room now? He won’t stay put. He’s never tried to leave before. Why now? He’s not happy and it’s-”

“Your fault?” Bofur asked and pulled his pipe out with a gaping mouth. “You think it’s your fault?”.

Bilbo stopped and turned towards the dwarf uncertainly. “No, I-should I be?” Bofur’s mustache twitched in the way it always twitched when he lied to Bombur or Bifur.

“Bofur, don-”

“No,” Bilbo went towards the bed that the other dwarves were reclining on or against. “What is it? What don’t I know?”

Ori glared at Bofur who glared back at Ori. Bombur shuffled back so he wasn’t in the glare. Bilbo’s heart stopped for a moment. It was his fault? He was causing Thorin that much pain?

“Umm,” Ori began, still glaring at Bofur. Bilbo stepped between them and leveled the full force of his ‘tell me now’ stare on the younger dwarf. It always worked on Frodo. Ori backed in his seat and looked at him wide eyed. “He’s calling out for you.” Ori squeaked. Bilbo stumbled back a step and nearly fell.

Thorin was in pain because of him? _And no one had thought to tell him?_ What had he done? Why was he causing Thorin so much pain?

A truly horrible screech rang through the halls and made Bilbo shudder. It sounded like the dragon was being torn apart. It sounded like his Thorin was being torn apart. Bilbo felt chilled and shaky, and he knew if he looked his hands would be trembling.

“You’re saying that Thorin has been calling for _me_ and I’m locked up?” Bombur dropped the cheese he was eating. Bofur nodded his head slowly as if he was a bit worried about Bilbo’s mental state..

“Yea, lad. That’d be because he’s a dragon. He’s dangerous. You know, airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks… extremely fond of precious metals.”

“Yes, I obviously know he’s a dragon. I’m here to cure him, aren’t I? What if he’s calling me because he needs me to cure him?”

Bofur shared another look with Ori. Ori blushed brilliantly and gave his head a little shake. Bofur mumbled something back in khuzdul and Bilbo nearly saw red. “Oh no you don’t!” He snapped and stomped his foot. “No more secrets. Tell me plainly, whatever it is.”

“Well… Remember when I was talking about being ‘One’?” Bilbo nodded his head and sat down on the floor next to Bofur. The dwarf handed him his pipe.

“You’re going to need a smoke.” Bilbo accepted the pipe and took a puff. He coughed it out and violently missed pipeweed.

“You’re his One. The person he’s meant to love. He’s fallen in love with you and he’ll never fall in love with anyone else. You- oh bother, I’m not explaining it properly at all am I?”

“Dwarves only fall in love-properly in love-once.” Bofur explained. “Once we give our hearts away we can’t get them back. Even if we’re rejected we can’t stop loving that person. That One.”

“So you only fall in love once. That seems dangerous.”

Bombur sat upright. “Not just anyone. When you meet your One, it doesn’t take long to know them. You feel it deep in your heart. It’s not a bad thing.It’s the most incredible feeling in the world.” He picked at his cheese. “Other races love differently than we do. We can feel infatuation and adoration for others, and a lot of dwarves mary for that. But the One..” He trailed off with a wistful sigh and took a bite of his cheddar.

“So, I’m Thorin’s one?” Bilbo stuttered. Another ragged cry filled the halls and Bilbo stood up. He was walking towards the door without even realizing it. “And he’s calling for me.” He turned to look back at the dwarfs. “So why am I locked up?”

“Because he’s still a dragon. We can’t be certain he won’t hurt you.”

“There’s also-how can I put this delicately…” Ori glanced at Bofur and Bilbo would have laughed in any other circumstance. Ori asking Bofur for how to be delicate.

“Don’t bother. Bilbo, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Bilbo didn’t stutter. He didn’t back up, and he didn’t faint. He could be  forgiven the blush that heated his skin.

“Yes.” Thorin’s bellows were growing louder and more desperate. If Bilbo never heard another dragon roar he’d be happy. He’d be ecstatic if he never had to hear Thorin make that sound again. With the pained cries still echoing in his ears, Bilbo wasn’t going to dance around any question just because it was awkward or uncomfortable.

“Well, laddie, the legends about dragons and virgins don’t come from nowhere.” Bofur said blandly and took a puff on his pipe. He hadn’t even realized that he’d discarded it.

They didn’t understand. Bilbo didn’t care. He’d come to his mountain expecting to die and had been given more than he could ever describe. He’d been so lonely all his life. He only had his extended family and recently a cousin. He had friends here, and a Prince that he was quite certain he loved. A prince that had been calling for him to ease whatever terrible pain he was in. Bilbo wouldn’t stay away just because he was a virgin Hobbit. If Thorin really was inside that dragon he would be safe.

“Thorin’s chained up, right?” Everyone nodded. Bilbo started to pace around the room. He was having an idea come to him, and it was crazy and  quite dangerous and would probably end with his being a toasty crisp.

“Yes.” Bofur said slowly and Ori looked worried.

“Bofur, unlock the door.”

“What makes you think _I_ have a key?”

“Because you get in here after I’m locked in. Now give it to me.”

“No.” Bofur said and then, much to Bilbo’s surprise, Bombur leaned forward and snatched the key out of his brother’s pocket. Bofur scrambled for it but Ori grabbed the searching hand and stilled them, allowing Bombur to toss the key to Bilbo. He caught it with nimble fingers and made for the door.

“If anyone asks I stole it.”

 

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

The halls were nearly empty. He didn’t see single dwarf until he’d gone two levels down, and he managed to evade their sight. Things got tricky after that. He had to hide behind several tapestries and a lot of statues before he got outside the treasure room.

There were two guards fairly near cowering in front of the door. It was cracked and Bilbo could feel heat coming from inside.

Right. Dragons were hot after all. All that fire and such. He thought about what to do for a long moment when he felt something tap his back. Bilbo’s heart stopped beating for a few long moments and he remained perfectly still, hoping against wild hope that he had imagined the touch.

“I think you need a distraction, laddie.” Dwalin tugged Bilbo back and turned him around so he was facing the tall dwarf. He had a hard glint in his eyes and he looked at Bilbo as if he was weighing him. Bilbo had grown quite used to the look. Dwalin always seemed to be measuring him to some standard. Bilbo never knew if he passed or not. “Wait here until the guards are at the other end of the hall.” He stepped back and hesitated, turning his head to look at Bilbo. “Are you sure? No one will think any less of you.”

“I will.”  Dwalin gave his head a sharp nod and headed out to the hall. He barked something in khuzdul that made Bilbo feel worried and turned around. The two guards glanced at each other and then ran after him. Bilbo waited until all three were gone before he stepped into the hall. He went to the door as quickly as possible and froze in front of it. The stone was hot to the touch and his back was tingling with fear. He’d never felt such a need to run away before.

But Thorin was on the other side of that door. Dragon or not, Bilbo couldn’t let him suffer.

Bilbo tugged the door open with hands that barely trembled and stepped forward. There was no turning back now.

A bellow louder than anything Bilbo had ever heard echoed through the hall and Bilbo barely managed to pull the door shut before he fell to the floor and covered his ears. It was almost too hot breathe and Bilbo’s feet tingled against the floor. He glanced around and that was when he finally saw him.

Thorin was massive. He was nearly solid black, with a few silver scales intermixed. His wings were stretched out in a desperate attempt to break free and his feet were pushing against the gold he was seated upon while he stretched his long, thick neck to the sky and bellowed. He was surrounded by chains that were the color of starlight. Bilbo had no idea what they were made of but they were a beautiful material. The cuffs surrounded his ankles and pierced his wings. They wrapped around his neck and back and Bilbo couldn’t understand how he was able to move, let alone bellow. His eyes, which were a beautiful yellow color, were wet and bright and it turned Bilbo’s stomach to see the pain and sadness in them.

“Thorin.” He barely whispered the words but the dragon had impressive hearing. He froze in his thrashing and Bilbo watched as his nostrils flared. The dragon very deliberately lowered his head, nostrils still flaring, and turned his head till it faced Bibo. His golden eyes flashed and his mouth dropped open. Bilbo fisted his hands and abruptly prepared to face a fiery death. He spared a thought for Frodo and prayed that Thorin wouldn’t hold himself guilty.

The dragon’s mouth opened and BIlbo’s eyes closed and… nothing. Bilbo opened a single eye to see the dragon straining his impressive muscles in an attempt to get closer to Bilbo. His mouth was shut tight and his chains were pulled tight.

He was whimpering.

Bilbo would never remember the next few moments of his life. One second he was in the doorway and the next he was in front of the dragon looking up at the writhing mass of scales and limbs.

Thorin dropped his head and peered at the Hobbit that was just out of his reach. The gold eyes blinked and Bilbo realized that they were the same shape as Thorin’s. The scales were the same color of his hair and the splashes of silver were the same as the dusting of gray in his Prince’s hair. He even had a gathering of silver scales right where his beads were.

Bilbo lifted his hand up and extended his fingers to the sharp nose like his Thorin’s. It was warm to the touch, almost too warm, and it made him want to withdraw his hand. The dragon let out a low rumbling noise and pressed closer to the light touch. He nuzzled against the hand and Bilbo stepped closer.

“Well,” he mumbled with a slightly hysterical giggle, “you’re not that frightening at all, are you?” The dragon rumbled again and Bilbo walked up to him so that he could wrap his arms around the warm neck. Wings came down and one brushed his back before the massive body wrapped around him. He was pressed against Thorin’s furnace like chest and the wing held him close.

Bilbo was fairly certain he was  _snuggling_ with a dragon.

Thorin’s head came down beside him and the dragon looked at him intensely. He huffed and a bit of smoke hit Bilbo in the eye. He coughed.

“None of that, now!”He realized the absurdity of what he was doing and laughed again. It was less hysterical this time and Bilbo felt accomplished. “What would you like? I imagine you’re probably bored down here.” A quick nod let Bilbo know he was right, and that Thorin understood him. “Would you like a story or a song?”

Thorin’s ears perked up more at the second option so Bilbo began to sing a tune Bofur was always humming. “There’s an inn, there’s an inn there’s a merry old inn.”

Thorin snarled and bared his teeth and Bilbo abruptly stopped. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as Thorin continued to growl and snarl.

_Dwarves are possessive. Imagine dragons._

That was Bofur’s song. Everyone knew that was Bofur’s song including, apparently, Thorin. “Right, sorry. Terribly thoughtless of me. I’ll try something else, aye?” He took a deep breath and tried to remember what all Ori had taught him.

 

 

> _“The world was young, the mountains green,_
> 
> _No stain yet on the Moon was seen,_
> 
> _No words were laid on stream or stone_
> 
> _When Durin woke and walked alone._
> 
> _He named the nameless hills and dells;_
> 
> _He drank from yet untasted wells;_
> 
> _He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,_
> 
> _And saw a crown of stars appear,_
> 
> _As gems upon a silver thread,_
> 
> _Above the shadows of his head._

Thorin lowered his head and curled his lip up. Bilbo was certain the dragon was grinning. The wing settled closer to him and Bilbo felt the foot press against his own. It was warm and strong and undeniably safe. Bilbo was being protected by a dragon. A dragon that looked a bit like Thorin and seemed more aware of himself than Bilbo would have ever thought possible. He felt a grin on his own lips and continued to sing long into the night, wrapped in a dragon embrace.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used part of your world to describe Thorin in his treasure trove. I went there.
> 
> Encase anyone is curious, I am deliberately making Thorin nicer for two reasons. One, he didn't see his home, Erebor, burn in fire and have elves betray him, or his Grandfather jump after a gem while his people burned. All that makes for a far less hard dwarf. Now my Thorin has had a rough life but not through betrayal. 
> 
> Secondly, I don't think anyone has ever mentioned this, but I think some of Thorin's mentalness could be Ring related. We know that the Ring drives Boromir to madness, I don't see why it couldn't have helped Thorin along with his. His family was predisposed to have madness, and it wasn't until he was around the Arkenstone and gold, and Bilbo that the madness took over. At that point Bilbo had worn the Ring for a near solid month at Mirkwood, and at the mountain side. We know Thorin took care of him when he got a fever in lake town so he would have been near it. The Ring's influence would have been high and hard after all that use. 
> 
> I blame a lot of his falling to the gold madness on the Ring, honestly. Since my story doesn't have the Ring in it (yet) no gold happy Thorin. (outside of dragon form anyway.) I hope that makes sense.
> 
> Also, we have a lot coming up for the plot in the next two chapters. :D (possibly some smexy action as well)


	9. At Least (or last) Out Loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the reception to this continues to blow me away. Have another chapter my pretties as my thank you! You're the best readers I could ask for and I'm ecstatic to write for you all. Feel free to let me know any questions you have in the comments. I try to respond to everything :)

 

  
_Who'd ya think you're kidding?_   
_He's the earth and heaven to you._   
_Try to keep it hidden, honey we can see right through ya._   
_Boy you can't conceal it,_   
_We know how you're feeling- who you're thinking of._

_-I Won't Say I'm In Love (Hercules)_

* * *

_  
_

Bilbo was wonderfully warm and he was lying on something deliciously soft. There was a strong something pressed against his back that took him a moment to realize was a person. He had a arm draped over his chest that was pulling him back into the person’s chest and his fingers were intertwined with theirs. He could feel the person’s breath against his neck and he shivered at the sensation.

Bilbo’s brain finally clicked on and he remembered the previous night. Thorin had been there. He’d been a dragon! Bilbo had fallen asleep against his chest which meant-

“Bilbo,” the name was murmured against his skin and made Bilbo shiver in delight. Thorin was very much human again, and holding him tight. “If I am dreaming may I never wake.” Thorin was always doing things like that. He was reserved and aloof in public but so tactile and romantic in private.

Bilbo turned over in Thorin’s hold so he could face the dwarf and smiled up at his face so near. His eyes were soft with sleep and his expression peaceful. Bilbo could scarcely believe that he had been a dragon mere hours ago. “You’re not dreaming, Thorin. I heard you call for me.”

Thorin blinked down at him and then understanding echoed in his eyes. He pushed himself up abruptly and Bilbo missed his warmth. He liked being held.

“You could have been hurt-I could have killed you.” Bilbo shook his head and pushed up on his elbows. He realized now that he was lying on Thorin’s cloak and it made him warm to think of Thorin moving him onto the cloak so he wouldn’t have to lie on the gold.

“You didn’t and wouldn’t. You missed me. That was obvious. How could I deny you my company? Besides, it’s hardly the first time I’ve risked my life for anothers sake.” Bilbo’s mouth clamped shut and Thorin’s brow furrowed in confusion. He hadn’t actually intended to say that last bit. Thorin didn’t know what he’d done yet.

“Did I hurt you, Ghivashel?” Bilbo swallowed and tried to calm his pounding heart. It was okay, he hadn’t said what he’d done. He decided a topic change was in order.

“No, we cuddled, actually. I think I hurt you. Is your neck alright?” Bilbo reached up and pulled Thorin’s collar down a bit to look. “You were straining at the collar and-” The back of Thorin’s fingers brushed down Bilbo’s face and completely derailed Bilbo’s thoughts.

“I am fine, Bilbo. No injuries from my other form carries over.” He continued to stroke Bilbo’s cheek tenderly. Bilbo leaned into the touch and blinked back tears. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he was having trouble holding back the sheer amount of love he was feeling for this dwarf.

He loved Thorin. He really, really did. It wasn’t something he had planned on, and nothing he knew how to handle but it was what it was. He loved this dwarf.

Had he had this thought at a more decent hour, or after second breakfast, then he would have gone on merrily and held the emotion close to his chest. A warm secret that he could cherish. As it was, the filter between his brain and mouth had clearly not started working yet.

“I love you.”

Thorin’s fingers froze against Bilbo’s  cheek and  Bilbo was certain his heart stopped working. Why on earth did he keep blabbering? “Oh god!” He squeaked, and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. “Why did I say that? You weren’t supposed to hear that! And I almost spilled that I wasn’t supposed to be selected to come here.”

Bilbo sat utterly still for five seconds and then he was scrambling like a mad hobbit. He fell away from Thorin and rolled over in an attempt to get his feet under him. Thick, vice like arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back to the ground. He struggled valiantly for a moment before he was tugged into Thorin’s chest and held close.

“Peace!” Thorin commanded. Bilbo stopped struggling and let the tears in his eyes fall.”Please, explain what you mean?”

Bilbo sniffed and closed his eyes. “I-I wasn’t the one that won the lottery.” Bilbo kept his eyes closed and ignored the tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was someone else. I took his place because it seemed so dangerous and I didn’t want him to come to harm.. I had no idea what would happen. I never intended to-”

Thorin’s lips covered his and Bilbo’s eyes snapped open. He remained still, no idea what to do. Thorin pulled back after several long moments and cupped his face. Bilbo hadn’t even felt himself being turned around. Thorin’s thumbs brushed under his eyes, clearing the tears away. He murmured something in Khuzdul before kissing him quickly again.

“My Bilbo, my dear Bilbo. I love you as well. You are my One, for me there shall be no other.” He pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s and held him as close as he could. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin and held the dwarf in gleeful disbelief. “My Bilbo with a heart of gold.” He clutched at Bilbo as if he was afraid to lose him. “Please, say you will stay with me?”

“Where would I go?” Bilbo asked, bewildered. “You’re not upset that I lied?”

“Only that you didn’t feel you could tell me.” Thorin sighed and nuzzled Bilbo’s cheek. “Had I known that none of the Hobbits were reaching their homes, I would have stopped the lottery immediately.” He rested his head against Bilbo’s in the affectionate manner of dwarfs and closed his eyes. “I am glad I did not. I would never have met you otherwise.”  He tugged Bilbo’s waist closer to his own and his other hand went to stroke the courtship braid and bead. “The wizard was quite right. The Hobbit would be my One, and I would know it without a doubt.”

“You would, hmm?” Thorin’s eyes opened and they were a darker blue than Bilbo was used to. He could see the faintest traces of gold hidden in their depths as well. The last lingering trace of the curse in daylight. “What determines it?” Bilbo asked, hardly aware he was speaking. He had his fingers wrapped around Thorin’s braid. It had taken a lot of lessons, and an infinitely patient Kíli, who played the part of model, to learn how to do the courtship braid.

“Determines what?” Thorin murmured, seeming far more interested in Bilbo’s touches than what he was saying. Bilbo was flattered but he really did need to know so he stilled his hand.

“If you become a dragon. I can’t figure it out. It’s not a day of the week, it’s not the moon, it’s not a number day…”

Thorin wound a strand of Bilbo’s hair around his finger distractedly. When he answered his voice was deep and thoughtful. “It’s nothing to do with the day or moon, though that’s quite clever. No, it has to do with what dragons value most.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. It was hard to think with Thorin holding his waist and playing with his hair. “Treasure?”

Thorin nodded his head. “I’m tied to the mines. Any time that they discover a new strain of something-whether it’s a gem or metal- I become a dragon.” He let Bilbo’s hair slip through his fingers. “I can feel it deep in my bones whenever they find anything new, but they keep me informed just the same.

“Can’t they just stop digging?” Bilbo asked. Thorin looked affronted.

“I would not have the kingdom cease working to ease my pain.” Bilbo huffed.

“I’m not saying that-”

“It wouldn’t matter anyway. If they stop for any reason other than a holiday or observance of some event, I change.”

“You had to get hit with a clever curse.” Thorin grinned and Bilbo melted into his hold. He brought a hand up to toy with his beard. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to cure you?” Thorin’s fingers didn’t stop stroking him, his fingers like fire against Bilbo’s skin.

“I’m not certain. I only knew that the Hobbit to cure me would be my One. I’ve sent dwarves out to look for the wizard to see if he has any more advice to give.”

That reminded Bilbo... “Where is everyone? I expected we would have been swamped by now.” Thorin’s grin, which had been soft and tender, turned wolfish and he laid Bilbo back on his cloak and hovered over him, his eyes dark and his hair falling around them. Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat with a squeak, and his heart pounded.

“No, my halfling. They will not look for me till noon. We are quite alone until then.” Thorin settled between his legs and got to work on kissing Bilbo senseless. He rested his weight on his forearms, and his hands buried themselves in Bilbo's curls. Blunt nails scratched at his his head and the sensation was enough to drive Bilbo wild. Thorin moved over Bilbo and the Hobbit gasped to feel somthing hard that was not part of Thorin's impressive thighs brush against his leg.

As much as Bilbo liked that idea, and he did, oh he did, he couldn’t enjoy his prince right now. It was already well past dawn and his friends would be faint with worry.

“Thorin I-oh!” Thorin dropped his head to Bilbo’s neck and started to kiss along his collarbone. Bilbo had been completely unaware he could get so hot so quickly.

“Mmm?” Thorin hummed against his throat and Bilbo moaned.He could feel Thorin grinning against his skin and it helped clear his mind a little.

“Bofur,” he mumbled as his head dropped back to give Thorin better access. The dwarf growled possessively and nipped at the skin there. “Ori-they-Oh!-they’ll be looking for-for me…” Thorin’s lips found his and Bilbo could feel his toes curling at the deep kisses that took control of his mouth and claimed what the Prince desired. It was driving Bilbo wild and he was realizing at the same time that his body was starting to flame that he was very unprepared for anything. He had no idea what was going to happen between the two of them. He’d heard a few stories of course, but he had no idea how the mechanics were supposed to work between two males.

With the way Thorin was kissing him, Bilbo had a feeling he’d need to know very soon. Still, he didn’t want to ask Thorin. The dwarf would be tender and delicate-Bilbo had no doubt-but he’d also stop any advances in order to protect Bilbo and not overwhelm him. Which would not work for Bilbo at all. That left the other dwarves he knew. Bofur would not be asked under any circumstance, nor would Fíli or Kíli. Even thinking about it was enough to make Bilbo blush. It would have to be Ori. The young dwarf was as rowdy as any other but he’d be less likely to make crude jokes at Bilbo’s expense.

“Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak.” Thorin whispered against Bilbo’s lips and even though he had no idea what that meant the intensity of Thorin’s voice was enough to make Bilbo’s body shudder and a groan pass his lips. The surprisingly loud noise startled Bilbo out of his lust-riddled-haze. He pushed Thorin away gently until the dwarf was on his side again. Bilbo pressed three quick kisses to his lips and stopped him from going for more with a hand on his chest.

“I have to let them know I’m alive.” He trailed a hand down Thorin’s face to his beard and twirled the end around his fingers. Thorin’s eyes were hooded and dark. It made Bilbo shiver. “I’ll be back for more later, my prince.”

“Fine. Begone from me before I tie you down so you cannot leave me ever again.” Bilbo laughed and stood up with a stretch. He spared Thorin another smile before slipping and sliding over the gold piles. He could feel the dwarf’s eyes on him and if he bent over more than strictly necessary to catch his balance, well, Thorin certainly wasn’t complaining, was he?

 

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

The other dwarves were very glad to see he was still alive. Bifur and Dori had joined the trio sometime in the night and they were all huddled around a game of cards. They enveloped Bilbo in a hug the minute he’d arrived and it had taken him ten minutes to calm them down enough to see that he was quite alright. It had then taken all of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon to figure out how to get away from Bofur. The dwarf hung around with an admirable determination. Bilbo had never had cause to get rid of him before and it took a fair bit of wit to get him to deliver Bilbo’s sword (Sting) to Thorin for tending. He’d had to endure a sneer and several laughs as well but Bilbo was used to that.

He dragged Ori to a quiet corner of the library knowing that the record keepers would make it known if Bofur came in.

“What is it you need to talk about?” Ori immediately asked. He curled up in a corner and grabbed out a skein of yarn and two knitting needles. He was working on a pair of bulky hand warmers that were a dark brown and had delicate runes stitched in the base. Bilbo needed to learn to read their language.

Bilbo’s traitorous cheeks immediately pinked and his gaze dropped to the book in his own lap. The clicking of Ori’s needles paused and Bilbo knew he saw the blush. The clicking resumed after a moment and Bilbo swallowed. He could go into see a dragon he could talk about this.

“I-I need to know what… umm… men-uh-do when they’re...intimate.” Bilbo let out a huge puff of air and felt his shoulders droop. There. He’d said it. Now he could wait and hear what Ori had to say. It would be okay.

He looked up to find the dwarf in question also blushing a bright red with his needles suspended in the air. A few stitches had fallen off.

“Me?” He squeaked. “You want me to tell you?”

Bilbo was feeling remarkably more relaxed. It was amazing what someone elses embarrassment could do for him. He nodded his head wryly. “Better than Bofur or your brother.”

Ori shuddered and more stitches fell of his needles. He quickly reclaimed them and went to knitting again.

“I can’t fault you there. Well… I assume you know what to do with a lass?” Bilbo nodded his head and Ori went on from there.

Bilbo’s cheeks had never been warmer than when Ori had finished. His head was swimming with information and he felt a bit dizzy. He sucked in a slightly desperate breath to aid in that. It helped that Ori was equally as red. “How-how do you even begin to do all of that?”

“Kissing.” Ori answered, dutifully focusing on his stitches and avoiding Bilbo’s eyes.

“Oh… so you just, do what feels natural.” Bilbo fiddled with the binding on his book. It was one Thorin had given him. His smile softened and he felt a flash of warmth in his stomach. “Just listen to him say he loves me.” He murmured the words.

“Exactly.” Ori gushed, his eyes bright and eager. “That’s how it goes everytime I’m near Dwalin-” He cut off abruptly and blushed bright red as he brought his hand to cover his mouth in horror. Bilbo grinned. He adored these dwarves. They seemed closed off until you realized that was just outsiders. They were remarkably close knit in family circles and loyal almost to a fault.

“I won’t tell.” He’d suspected they might be an item just from observing the two. Ori had to find the information somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t from either of his over protective brothers.

“Bilbo,” the gruff voice echoed through the library with authority and Bilbo felt his mouth drop open in mild surprise. He heard one of the record keepers grumble something to which Dwalin barked a reply in khuzdul. A moment later the large dwarf was standing in front of them. Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened when he looked down at Ori.

“Dwalin?” Bilbo questioned. The dwarf frowned and motioned for Bilbo to stand.

“Thorin has a free moment and wants to see you before he has to go to court with King Thrain.”

Bilbo nodded and set the book in his pack. Ori was looking at Dwalin and there was clearly a lot of unspoken things being said between the two of them. It made Bilbo’s feet itch to walk. He wanted to see his own dwarf. His stomach was uncomfortably warm and he couldn’t stop thinking about what they had just talked about.

Dwalin finally looked away from Ori and lead the way out. Bilbo followed him mindlessly, warm and heart pounding.  Thorin was dressed in various shades of blue and black, and had a fur cloak on that made him look older and distinguished. It took Bilbo’s breath away and made his knees feel weak to just look at him. They were in a room to the side of the Throne room that was little more than a closet. Dwalin shut the door and stood guard outside of it, leaving Thorin and Bilbo very much alone.

Thorin took Bilbo in his arms and Bilbo placed a happy kiss on his lips. “Mahal, I did not think I would make it through this morning. I was driven to distraction all day by thoughts of you.” He kissed Bilbo deeply and the hobbit was sure his legs wouldn’t carry him anymore. “I have a gift for you but I am loathe to release you long enough to give it.”

“I love you,” Bilbo murmured blissfully. Thorin tightened his arms around him before dropping them and reaching into his pocket. Bilbo tried not to nuzzle his cloak. He pulled out an arm cuff that was made of several braided silver strips of metal. It was the courting braid, Bilbo realized after a moment. His pounding heart melted a bit.

Thorin ran his fingers over the metal for a moment before handing the arm cuff over and Bilbo considered it carefully. He knew Thorin’s crafting meant a lot to him, and it would be insulting to just glance over a gift. It had several gems embedded in it. Two bloodstones which were deep green with shockingly bright red centers, a iolite that was a blueish-purple color and very pretty, a lapis lazuli that was a vibrant blue, and a opal that had too many colors to count on it. Bilbo stared at the stones intently, trying to remember if he had ever read any language for gems like flowers had.

And then he realized what it was and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. This was a brilliant courting gift. “You-” He giggled again and looked up to find Thorin looking unsure, “you spelled my name with gems!” He scuttled forward and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. “Thank you, it’s brilliant and clever and sweet and I love it.” He nuzzled the top of Thorin’s cloak and clutched tighter.

“I love you.”

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo and held fast. “And I you, my Hobbit.”

 

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

 

“I want to go further.” Bilbo blurted the words out as Thorin pressed a kiss to his jaw and promptly flushed what had to be a truly impressive color of red. He was laying in Thorin’s bed for crying out loud. He could hardly act more wanton if he wanted. The dwarf froze with his lips against Bilbo’s skin and something churned uncomfortably in his stomach. He hadn’t considered that. What if Thorin-what if he wasn’t interested? Bilbo wasn’t exactly attractive by dwarf standards. He was short and beardless and rounder and he had huge feet and-

Thorin was really holding him quite tightly. He hadn’t moved from where he’d been against him, and his lips were still on his jaw even though they weren’t moving. The dwarf wasn’t fleeing, whatever he was doing. It didn’t exactly ease the worry in Bilbo’s gut, but it did help him to inhale. He felt Thorin’s throat flex against him before the dwarf was pushing himself up with strong, thick arms.

“Further?” His voice was a deep, raspy note that would have made Bilbo shiver delightfully in absolutely any other circumstance. As it was, Bilbo averted his eyes and turned his head into the pillow.

“I-I want to sleep with you, Thorin.” He closed his eyes in mortification but continued. He would not chicken out just because Thorin wasn’t responding. “I-I’ve never before, but I want to experience everything with you.”

Thorin made a deep, husky, rumbling, moaning sort of noise that drew Bilbo’s attention back just in time to see Thorin drop his mouth to Bilbo’s with a half crazed look in his blue eyes. He kissed Bilbo possessively and demandingly, just the way he liked it. Thorin kept the rest of his body from touching any of Bilbo, and he missed the warmth and weight painfully.

“Do not tempt me with such beautiful words when I must leave.” He mumbled against Bilbo’s lips.

“It’s not a tempt, it’s a request.” Thorin pushed up again and looked at Bilbo intently.

“You are sure, Ghivashel?” Bilbo still didn’t know what that meant but he loved how it sounded rolling off Thorin’s tongue. “Do not feel you must offer this to please me.”

“I don’t.” Bilbo assured him. “I want it. I want you. All of you.”

“And I you.” Bilbo brightened immediately and leaned up to kiss Thorin. The dwarf returned the kiss for a moment before he rolled off Bilbo and landed heavily beside him. Thorin closed his eyes and purposefully took several deep breaths.

“You make me feel like a dwarfling again, Bilbo.” He turned his head to look at Bilbo and smiled. “I have meetings in ten minutes and I should be on my way but I cannot leave you, my tempter.”

“Then come back to me tonight.” Bilbo whispered, propping up on his elbow and toying with Thorin’s beard. His confidence was returning now that he knew Thorin wanted him in that way. “Or maybe I’ll come to you. Your bed is larger. I think we’ll need the room. I want to try everything,” he looked at Thorin through his eyes lashes, “and I do mean _everything_.”

Thorin pulled his beard away and stood up. He was breathing shallowly and had his eyes closed. “I have to leave.” He growled, his voice lower than Bilbo had ever heard it. His eyes popped open and his pupils were blown wide. “But I will return for you, my Hobbit. Tonight, we will begin exploring everything.”

Bilbo could hardly ask for more.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Check out the BEAUTIFUL piece of art that draconic-doc made for dragon!Thorin  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghivashel= Treasure of all treasures. It'll be popping up a lot :)  
> Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak = I desire you more than Mithril veins. If that isn't an 'I love you' for a dwarf, I don't know what is.
> 
> I foresee a very long chapter next, with a big plot changer O_O (And maybe a little something in the bedroom ;) )


	10. Ever Just as Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning for the end of this chapter. If that's not your thing, skip the end of the chapter where my warning appears. 
> 
> Also, this is a really long chapter and you should all feel loved because it took FOREVER to write. I've never written this sort of thing before so comments and critiques are welcome :)

 

  
_Tale as old as time_   
_True as it can be_   
_Barely even friends_   
_Then somebody bends_   
_Unexpectedly_   
_Just a little change_   
_Small to say the least_   
_Both a little scared_   
_Neither one prepared_   
_Beauty and the Beast_

_-Beauy and the Beast (Beauty and the Beast)_

* * *

_  
_

Bilbo willed the long afternoon away in the castle gardens. They weren’t terribly large, but they had an impressive array of flowers and rock plants. Bilbo was certain they were where the flowers Thorin sent him came from. Bofur whittled away on a toy for Gloin’s son and it was perfectly peaceful.

Except the day was literally dragging. Nothing would speed up the slowly passing time either. Anticipation and nerves had him on edge and he was aware of every passing minute.

“Where is your guard, Hobbit? Surely the Prince cares enough for you to provide you a simple protector.” Bilbo looked up from the plant he was pruning to see Pryftan headed towards him. It didn’t escape Bilbo’s notice that Bofur sat upright from where he’d been reclining against a tree and gripped his whittling knife tightly.

“I am still in the palace. There are guards everywhere and I am with my servant who is quite skilled. I have no need of protection.” Bilbo replied calmly as he could. He continued to plant his potatoes and thought wistfully of his cousin and Sam doing the same thing so long ago. He missed them all, but he wasn’t sorry for his choice now. Not when he had a letter from Frodo and Saradoc and Hamfast under the pillow in his room. The hobbits were searching high and low for their kin. One of the humans in Bree, a man by the name of Butterbur, testified that he had seen the dwarves deliver Hobbits to his inn for years. The Hobbits disappeared at the Buckleberry Ferry. Bilbo glanced up at the squinty eyed dwarf. “Unless someone inside wishes me ill.”

“Which would not bode well for them.” Bofur added. Pryftan looked irritated that Bofur was speaking to him again. He had an extremely annoying way of peering down his nose at everyone. Bilbo hated having to work near him during drills.

“Thorin has also provided me with a beautiful blade that I’m learning to use.”

Pryftan snorted. “That thing?” He indicated the blade. “It looks more like a letter opener than a actual weapon.”

Bilbo contemplated hitting the arrogant dwarf with his letter opener. That’d make him sing a different tune.

“What is it ye want?” Bofur snapped. He was seldom ever blatantly rude to anyone that wasn’t a friend. Pryftan just brought it out of the jovial dwarf for some reason.

“Bilbo has been summoned to the throne.” He lowered his eyes to Bilbo while keeping his head straight. It made him look horribly smug. “King Thrain wishes to speak with him.”

Bilbo’s stomach did a flip and ended up near his feet. Thrain wanted to see him?

“Then you should have lead with that.” Bofur huffed. He stood up and pocket his half carved toy, but not the knife, and held a hand out to Bilbo. Bilbo accepted it and dusted off his gardening clothes. They weren’t bad-nicer than anything he would have worn in the Shire-but they were hardly proper for seeing the King. “Come on, we’ll go find Dori-”

“No. He demands the Halflings presence now.”

“Then you really should have lead with that.” Bofur motioned for Bilbo to walk and the dwarf trailed behind him with Pryftan behind him. Bofur almost always lead anywhere they went because Bilbo was always getting lost in the mountain.

He really didn’t like Pryftan.

Bilbo’s heart was beating oddly and his hands were shaking by the time he reached the throne room. Gloin was standing watch at the door and he offered Bilbo an encouraging smile. He opened the door and Bilbo once more realized he had nothing to do with his hands. He lamented the loss of pockets, again, and made a mental note to ask Dori for some. Bofur and Pryftan stayed outside as Bilbo entered the hall. Thorin was sitting on his smaller throne at Thrain’s side and he looked so grand that Bilbo would have been speechless.

If he wasn’t already that way because Thrain was glaring at him with his good eye.

“Halfling.” He barked. Bilbo repressed a shudder and dropped to his knee in a low bow.

“Your Majesties.” He felt Thorin’s bead brush against his cheek as he bowed his head and the cool touch brought him an immense amount of comfort. His dwarf had already claimed him in a very public way. He was okay. It would be alright. Whatever was about to happen.

“Have you found out?”

Bilbo remained kneeling while he tried to work that out. After a minute he had to give it up as naught. “Found out?” He kept his head lowered despite how much he wanted to look at Thorin.

“How to cure Thorin. That is the reason you are here.”

Bilbo hadn’t been aware it was his job to figure that out. He was supposed to be told what to do. They’d brought him here after all. From what Thorin had told him, no one actually knew what they were doing in that regard. “I have not figured out how to cure milord yet, your Majesty.” Bilbo said honestly. He could hear someone moving but he remained kneeling. He wasn’t allowed to stand till given permission but he’d never had to kneel for so long. He felt a bit like he was missing a piece to a puzzle.

Again.

Thorin’s deep voice said something in khuzdul and Bilbo let the familiar sound wash over him. Thrain replied in khuzdul, aggressively, though that just might have been the way the words were pronounced. Khuzdul was hardly a delicate language.

“Rise, halfling.” Bilbo stood up slowly and tried to figure out what was going on. Thrain looked furious and Thorin irritated. It felt like he’d walked in on the middle of a spat.

He was going to the library straight after this and reading every single book on dwarvish culture he could find. He was tired of being left out of the loop.

The doors at the back of the throne room burst open and Balin rushed in. He bowed hastily before advancing to the throne. He was pale and ragged and looked as if he’d been running a great distance.

“Majesty,” he panted to Thrain with wide eyes. He sucked in a breath and straightened, “Your father has fallen with the winter illness.” Balin declared, his normally cheerful expression ragged with regret. Bilbo’s stomach dropped somewhere to the floor. Balin carefully made his way up to where Thorin sat in the small throne beside Thrain and dropped to his knees. Bilbo’s heart went to his throat. “He has named you, Prince Thorin son of Thrain, his successor.”

Bilbo’s stomach decided it would rather join his heart in his throat and for a very long, very horrible moment Bilbo thought he was going to be sick all over the throne room floor.

“What?” Thrain asked slowly, his deep voice darkening with disbelief. Thorin hadn’t blinked since Balin entered the room looking so ragged, and he seemed to remember that fact. His eyelids slowly dropped down and lifted just as slowly, as though they were infinitely heavy and it was all Thorin could do to move them at all.

Balin lifted his head and stared Thrain straight in the eyes. His back straightened slightly and Bilbo could see the line of Durin in his noble stance. “His majesty Thror is aware that he does not have the strength to fight off the winter sickness, for his majesty is an old dwarf. He has chosen Thorin as his successor. You, King Thrain, he has wished to maintain the Blue Mountains.” Balin bowed again, his beard touching the cold stone floors as he did so.

“He wishes for you to leave immediately. The journey will have to be made swiftly as possible with few companions. King Thror would like to coronate you before he is claimed.” Here Balin looked up and locked eyes with Thorin whose face had fallen into the impassive expression he claimed whenever he was digesting news. “I shall make the riders ready, My King.”

“Dismissed.” Thrain growled. Balin stood up stiffly and exited the halls without another look back. Bilbo remained frozen on the side. His mind utterly reeling.

“I said, dismissed!” Thrain stood up and barked the words out and Bilbo stumbled back. His heart jumped and he lost what little breath he’d managed to get.

“O-of course! Sorry, Milord.” Bilbo bowed hastily and all but fled from the hall. He vaguely thought he heard Thorin say something, but he was too frightened to see if he had. Bofur was waiting at the doors for him. Pryftan was nowhere to be seen. Bofur followed him immediately.

“It’s true then? Thorin’s been named King?”

Bilbo nodded, scarcely believing it when he’d been standing right there to hear it all. “Yes. He’ll have to head to Erebor soon… Probably tomorrow morning. Thrain didn’t seem happy about it.”

“He wouldn’t be.” Bofur shook his head, making his braids bounce and his mustache twitch. “He was next in line and Erebor is far more grand than the Blue Mountains. Thror has preferred Thorin for a long while now-hard not to when the lad saved him from the madness-but I didn’t see this coming.”

“Yes, well, it can’t be helped.” They’d reached Bilbo’s room some how. Bofur pushed the door open and immediately went for the wardrobe, pulling clothes out and tossing them to the middle of the floor. Bilbo watched his favorite weskit fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“What are you doing?!”

Bofur didn’t even pause. “Packing, of course! You’ll need to be ready when he calls which won’t be long. This will be a quick and thoroughly unpleasant journey, I’m afraid.” He considered a finely embroidered weskit and tunic. “Still… you’ll need something nice for the coronation and they can hardly be expected to have anything hobbit size.” He dropped the outfit into a smaller pile and tugged Bilbo’s pack out of the wardrobe. Bilbo dropped onto the bed in shock. He needed to sit quietly for a moment but it didn’t look like he’d get a chance. Bofur was packing on as if he hadn’t just said the most absurd thing in the world.

“Go? Me?”

Bofur paused and looked up at him. “Of course. You’re his One. He’ll need your support. Unless-unless you don’t want to go?”

Bilbo’s head shot back in surprise. “Not want to? Of course I want to! I’d rather stay with him and I still haven’t figured out the bit about breaking the curse. Do you think he’ll want me to go though?” Bofur dropped the clothes he’d been attempting to shove into the pack and went to the bed to sit beside Bilbo. He appreciated the comfort but longed for a dwarf with darker hair and broader shoulders.

“Bilbo, he won’t be separated from you.”

Bilbo fidgeted and looked down at his hands. He knew that Thorin loved him, and that he was supposedly Thorin’s ‘One’ whatever all that entailed, but he still had trouble believing it was that kind of a love. The permanent one he’d always longed for in the Shire. The kind of love his parents had always had and the kind that Drogo had felt for Primula. The type that sonnets were written about.

They’d planned to further their relationship this evening but now… Well that would hardly happen. He still didn’t know if Thorin would want him tagging along either. He’d also been lectured about not curing Thorin as well. Thrain clearly disliked him and Bilbo had no idea about how to cure dragons.

“Bilbo, Thorin will not let you go away if he can help it. And not just because of the curse, dragon thing.” Bofur wrapped an arm around Bilbo and gave him a squeeze. “It’s like we said. Dwarves love differently than a lot of races. You know we have one person above all others who we will love. It’s a rarity to find them, but when we do, all else is set aside in pursual of that person. That One.” Bofur gave Bilbo’s hair a little tug, playing with the bead that Thorin had given him after he declared his intention to court him. “Your Thorin’s One. He will take you along, regardless of whether or not anyone disapproves. The only person who could stop him from taking you with him is you. No one else would even try to stop him.” Bofur shrugged and went on. “We dwarves are mighty jealous and protective things-as you’ve seen-and we protect our Ones with all that we have.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly, the ache in his chest he hadn’t even noticed that had been there since Balin stumbled into the Throne room lessened. “Then I’d better set to packing. It would seem we’re about to be going on another adventure.” Bilbo got up from the bed and went to his sloppily packed pack. “You’d best pack as well. You’ll be coming along.”

Bofur’s eyes widened before his signature grin spread across his lips. “And don’t forget to pack your servant robes.”

“Cheeky hobbit.” Bofur muttered before going to the bathroom and gathering supplies in there. Bilbo set to folding his clothes properly and felt the ache in his stomach lessen.

 

 

-{}-{o}-{}-

“Alright, I’ll go pack my belongings up.” Bofur stated as he set the last pack into the small pile Bilbo had collected. Bilbo nodded his head distractedly.

“I’m going to go wait for Thorin in his room.”

Bofur made a strangled sound and Bilbo immediately looked up in worry only to find the dwarf was trying very hard to hold in a laugh. Bilbo scowled at him. “In case he wants to talk. You’re really terrible.”

“Whatever you say, Bilbo.” Bofur left the room with a laugh and Bilbo tried to make his blush go away before he started towards Thorin’s room. He patted the bead in his hair absently and the touch of the cool metal against his palm calmed him.

He didn’t make it to the Prince-King’s room before he was hit by a fur-wearing mass of dwarf and pushed into the wall outside Thorin’s bedroom. He squeaked in fright before he recognized the hair of the person pushing him back.

Thorin buried his face in Bilbo’s neck but kept the Hobbit pressed against the wall. He moved his lips silently for a moment before saying something khuzdul. Which was obviously unhelpful. Bilbo stood still for a moment before pushing Thorin gently away. “I can’t-”

Thorin jerked away and took five stumbling steps back until he was pressed against the opposite wall. He sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands. “Of course, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll have Gloin and Dwalin escort you back to your home.”

“You dolt.” Bilbo huffed, pushing himself off the wall and trying to regain his breath. “I was saying ‘I can’t understand you.’ I still don’t speak khuzdul. You lot guard your language so religiously. What were you saying? And I am not going back to the Shire. Besides, Dwalin will be accompanying you. He’s your bodyguard.” Though the fact that Thorin would have Dwalin guard him meant a lot. Thorin trusted Dwalin more than any other dwarf.

“I am going to lose you.” Thorin whispered, and Bilbo was certain he had not been meant to hear the words. He made a decision in that moment and shuffled forward, pressing a careful kiss against Thorin’s mouth.

“Thorin, you are not losing me. I’m coming with you, you silly dwarf.” He kissed him again and this time the dwarf responded eagerly, but didn’t attack Bilbo’s mouth as the Hobbit had suspected. He gripped Bilbo’s hips gently, but unyieldingly. His kisses steadily deepened and Bilbo returned them.

* * *

***** ADULT SCENE AHEAD. Skip to the next chapter if it's not your thing. *******

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until he was being pressed into the wall, again, that Bilbo managed to say anything.

“Thorin,” he whispered and then shuddered as Thorin nipped at the spot between his neck and jaw. “We leave tomorrow?” The dwarf nodded distractedly and Bilbo felt his entire body shiver. He focused as hard as he could on making the words continue. “Please-I- your room…” Thorin growled something low in khuzdul and then Bilbo was being lifted up from the wall and into Thorin’s arms. He would have complained at being carried in any other occurrence but he couldn’t, not there and not then. Thorin managed to keep his mouth attached to Bilbo’s throat, still nibbling and sucking a mark into his skin.

Thorin turned and walked the few feet to his quarters calmly. Apparently having an armful of Bilbo had calmed his need to fly. He pushed the heavy door open and kicked it shut before marching straight towards his bed and lowering Bilbo onto it gently. Bilbo fought against tensing all over and exhaled as Thorin removed his lips from Bilbo’s throat. His skin tingled from the no doubt impressive bruise that was probably already forming.

This was the first time he’d ever been in this sort of a situation. He’d always been thought rather odd at the Shire, what with his fascination of adventure stories and his disinterest in taking up with a lass (the reasons for which were now glaringly obvious) so he’d never had the chance to discover the more pleasurable sides of life.

Thorin climbed on top of him and straddled his stomach before leaning down and claiming his lips again. Thorin was indescribably solid on top of him, and Bilbo had to shut his eyes when Thorin’s tongue entered his mouth again. There was too much to feel and too much to think.

Thorin’s hands came up to cup his cheek before trailing down to drag along his throat. The callouses caught at his new bruise and he whimpered into Thorin’s mouth. The touch was surprisingly intense.

Thorin broke the kiss and started to kiss and lick his way down Bilbo’s face to his neck, where he began to make another mark. Thorin’s dwarven possessiveness was starting to show. He stretched out his legs while he worked and lowered himself on to Bilbo fully. This was what Bilbo wanted, the sensation of being completely surrounded by Thorin. Utterly safe and protected from all else. He brought his arms up and draped them around Thorin’s neck, bringing his head back up for a kiss. Thorin shifted lower so that he was snugly between Bilbo’s legs and Bilbo realized how aroused they had become as his clever dwarf began to rock.

Bilbo had to break the kiss with a gasp as his head pressed back into the pillow.  Thorin sucked in deep breaths as well and pressed his forehead against Bilbo, just resting there as he continued to rock their arousals together. Bilbo was helpless against the sensations and incapable of moving his eyes away from Thorin’s pale blue ones. He’d had no idea how much he had wanted this. Had no idea what it  would be like to feel Thorin on top of him, heavy and so very real.

“Bilbo,” he murmured into the hobbit’s neck, and Bilbo’s entire body shivered at the sensation and sound of his voice. “Can I-do you want?”

“I-I’m ready. I wouldn’t have come to you if I wasn’t. I-I want you. All of you.” He blushed and turned his head so he didn’t have to look Thorin in the eye for his next embarrassing confession. “I asked Ori about how everything works so-“

“So you know what to do, azygul?”

“I know what I want.” Bilbo replied. He gripped Thorin’s shoulders again, and in a surprising bout of courage, thrust his own hips against Thorin’s. Thorin let out a ragged moan that made something hot and liquid surge in Bilbo’s stomach as well as cause his skin to tingle.

Thorin began thrusting again and they became more insistent as his breath grew more ragged. His hand smoothed down Bilbo’s side to his tunic, trying to tug it up. The fabric resisted and Bilbo wouldn’t have minded if Thorin just tore it off.

Thorin growled against him and sat back, tugging Bilbo up into a sitting position and attacking his weskit and tunic with a passion that Bilbo had only seen him have with sword fighting. Bofur’s horribly inappropriate joke so many nights ago sprung to his mind and Bilbo had to fight back a giggle. Thorin divested Bilbo of his tunic and he now sat bare chested and very aware of that fact. He might have been embarrassed if Thorin hadn’t been looking at him like he was the single brightest jewel in Middle Earth.

He reached out and touched Thorin’s cloth covered chest. “Please,” he began uncertainly, “will you-“ Thorin leaned back and tugged his own clothes off in a few effective movements and Bilbo found himself quite without breath.

Thorin was exquisite. Now all Bilbo could think about was having all that beautifully bare skin touching his own bare skin. He laid back and tugged Thorin along with him, moaning at the feel of Thorin’s warm skin against his own. His dwarf was covered in black hair-almost a fur-and it was soft to the touch, and so very warm.  He was hard everywhere else, and very compact, so utterly different than any Hobbit.

Thorin’s hands were moving all across Bilbo’s chest and the sensation was enough to render him incapable of thinking. Thorin was murmuring something in Khuzdul, and it was clearly appreciation for what he saw. Bilbo’s breath was ragged and his mind oddly fuzzy from sensation. He still managed to bring his own hands up to Thorin’s back, and the muscles he found there had him shuddering. He trailed his hands downwards and before he quite knew what was happening he had his hands on the seam of Thorin’s trousers.

Thorin let out a strangled noise and suddenly he moved very quickly. He divested Bilbo of his pants and then his smalls and Bilbo found the embarrassment he’d never felt when bathing in front of others make itself known. Thorin reached forward and left his hand hovering over Bilbo’s crotch before raising his eyes to meet Bilbo’s. They were clearly asking for permission and Bilbo nodded.

Thorin murmured something else in khuzdul before he moved. He leaned down and captured Bilbo’s lips in another kiss and stroked his fingers over Bilbo’s cock and the Hobbit’s entire body bucked at the incredible sensation. Thorin continued to stroke and Bilbo’s eyes turned hooded as the pleasure rocketed through him.

“You are astounding, Bilbo. I have never beheld such beauty.” The words were whispered against his ears and they made the pleasure intensify even more. Thorin pulled back after a few more strokes and slipped from the bed to shuffle through his coats pockets. Bilbo knew what was to happen next and turned over, getting onto his hands and knees. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. Instead of the expected hands on his buttocks though, he felt a hand trail down his spine. It was gentle and made Bilbo unexpectedly moan. Thorin’s hands landed on his waist and  Bilbo found himself gently being flipped to his back. Thorin bend down again and kissed his lips gently. He pulled away slowly, his eyes devoted and possessive.

“I wish to see you, Bilbo.” Bilbo found that idea quite agreeable. Thorin kissed him again and Bilbo couldn’t decide if he was nervous, or if it was anticipation. Or a mix of both.

Thorin’s hand trailed down Bilbo’s stomach and he decided that both was what it was. He started when a slick finger circled his hole. He had never expected the skin there to be so sensitive. The finger stroked him gently, coaxing the muscle to relax before it pushed slowly inside. Bilbo’s eyes widened at the feeling and he couldn’t stop squirming slightly. It didn’t hurt, really, but…

“Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“Like what?”

“Odd. Like it shouldn’t be there.”

Thorin chuckled lowly and ducked his head, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s collar. “Well, it isn’t supposed to be there. So yes, it should feel odd. If it hurts, let me know. It can feel quite incredible if I do it right.” Thorin moved the slick digit slowly a few times and then he started to curl it up, looking for something. Bibo opened his mouth to ask what the dwarf was doing and then his entire body jolted as the unexpected, and extremely intense,  pleasure shot through his body.

Thorin took advantage of his distraction and slipped in another finger before kissing him. “See my hobbit? Quite incredible.” Bilbo mewled, completely unconcerned with how debauched he probably looked, and clawed at Thorin’s back as he stroke the secret spot deep inside again.  The digits spread around inside him, spreading him open and preparing him for what was to come. Thorin’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes darker than Bilbo had ever seen. His pupils were heavily dilated and his breathing was ragged.

A third finger slipped inside him and Bilbo squirmed at the incredibly full feeling before Thorin bent to kiss him again. His free hand moved to Bilbo’s chest, trailing up till it rested on top of the halflings heart. Bilbo melted at the touch and let Thorin control the kiss. When the dwarf finally pulled back Bilbo arched his back and pulled his knees up to spread his legs further open in invitation. Thorin made a strangled, growling noise in the back of his throat and pulled his fingers out. He rose up on his knees to coat his cock with the oil from the small vial and Bilbo took the opportunity to look at him. The hair on his furred chest got thicker the lower it went, until it surrounded the thick cock that Thorin was preparing. He was as long as Bilbo, but thicker, and he wasn’t sure the three fingers would be enough.

Thorin reached down and took hold of Bilbo. He cradled his thighs in his large hands and lifted his hips up toward himself. Bilbo watched Thorin’s organ disappear from view before lifting his eyes to look at Thorin’s face as he felt the blunt tip press against his stretched entrance. Thorin raised his eyes to meet Bilbo’s and then he pushed forward and he was sliding in. Bilbo lost the ability to breathe at the pressure of Thorin slipping into his body. His hands scrambled at the bedsheets for purchase before moving to grip Thorin’s arms. He didn’t feel any pain, thankfully, but it wasn’t terribly comfortable.

Thorin slid the rest of the way in and stopped pushing, throwing his head back and moaning. He released Bilbo’s thighs and placed his hands on either side of Bilbo’s hips for support. Bilbo remained still, trying to fill his lungs when he felt a sudden pop of pressure-like a muscle being kneaded out- and the uncomfortable sensation passed.

“Mahal, you are incredible, my Bilbo.” Thorin bent his head and pressed a quick kiss to Bilbo’s lips before pushing up a bit so he wasn’t crushing Bilbo. His dark hair fell in sheets around them, closing them off from everything else that was happening around them. Thorin slowly shifted, pulling back out slightly before sinking back into Bilbo. Bilbo couldn’t hold back a soft, surprised gasp as his dwarf seemed to go even deeper. Thorin adjusted and lowered himself until he was chest to chest with Bilbo, flattening their bodies together and spreading Bilbo’s legs wider. Bilbo closed his eyes at the sensation. It was incredible, he was utterly surrounded by Thorin. Every sense was saturated by his dwarf. He could taste him, feel him all over his skin, see his blue eyes staring intently, and hear his breathing next to his ears. The heavy weight of him was perfect. His love was _inside_ him. It was impossible to be closer than they currently were. He tried to think of how to explain it, how to describe it. It was like warmth and light and home and safety and it was overwhelming and left him utterly breathless. He couldn’t describe it, there simply weren’t words.

“Thorin,” he found himself whispering to the incredible eyes. He felt so safe and cared for. Thorin moved his weight to his elbows and clasped hands with Bilbo. Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist and his back arched up off the bed at the sudden pleasure that rocketed through his body. He gasped loudly as Thorin’s cock pushed against his prostate and his dwarf grinned wickedly. He pressed deeper and Bilbo had no control of his body suddenly. His back arched, his hips writhed, his chest heaved as he tried to breathe and his fingers clenched at Thorin’s.

Thorin fixed him with a hungry, intense stare and then twisted his hips in slow, intimate circles, rubbing the tip of his cock directly into Bilbo’s prostate. Bilbo bit down on his lip to fight off any noise he might have made and Thorin’s eyes narrowed. He pressed harder and Bilbo thrashed his head from side to side at the intense, incredible, perfect sensation. Thorin dropped his head to Bilbo’s neck and licked at the mark he’d left and Bilbo let out a cry of pleasure.

The noise clearly had an effect on Thorin. He jerked his hips back with a growl and thrust smoothly back in. Again and again until his hips were in constant motion against Bibo’s who did his best to meet the thrusts. Bilbo’s body rocked against the bed with each powerful thrust and he was helpless against the noises escaping him.

“Mine,” Thorin rumbled before moving his mouth to the other side of Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo squirmed at the sensation before tightening his legs against Thorin’s waist and digging his heel into his lover’s buttocks.

“My dwarf,” he mumbled, not even aware he was speaking. Thorin pulled back from his neck but his hips didn’t slow down, his thrust increased in speed if anything.

“Yours, Bilbo, only yours.”

His thrust definitely increased in speed and intensity and the jolts of pleasure each thrust caused had Bilbo seeing stars. Each brush of his prostate had him gasping little ‘ahs’ that he couldn’t control. He could feel a pressure building beneath his belly, a tight pulsing twisting sort of sensation.  He wouldn’t last much longer. “Thorin,” he gasped out and tightened his fingers around the dwarf’s larger fingers, “Thorin, I-oh!”  He could barely breathe in tiny gasp with each thrust.

“Let go,” Thorin whispered raggedly and then Bilbo’s orgasm hit. He threw his head back and screamed something that was close to Thorin’s name as he spilled his release across his stomach. Blinding light flashed across his vision and pleasure more intense than he’d ever felt flooded his system.

Thorin moaned and gripped Bilbo tighter. He pounded into him mercilessly and Bilbo tightened himself around the dwarf. He freed his left hand from Thorin’s and tugged the dwarf down by his braid for a kiss. Thorin cried out and his release burst into Bilbo, filling him with a warmth he could easily imagine growing addicted to.

Bilbo didn’t try to hide the dazed smile that lifted his lips as Thorin dropped his forehead to rest against  Bilbo’s as they both regained their breath.

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo murmured, wonderfully sated. Thorin lifted his head the slightest bit and smiled at him with hazy eyes.

“Yes, love.” He pushed himself up fully and drew himself out of Bilbo, causing the hobbit to blush at the feel of Thorin’s seed slipping down his thighs. “Are you alright?”

“That was incredible,” Bilbo lowered his eyes and brushed a hand over Thorin’s chest, “my King.” Thorin trembled for a moment before rolling off the bed and strolling towards the bathroom. Bilbo enjoyed the view from the back while he vaguely wondered what the dwarf was doing. Thorin came back out with a cloth and water and Bilbo felt his heart thump. Thorin cleaned him with soft, gentle touches and several kisses placed intimately against his skin like promises.

Once he finished he tossed the cloth on the nightstand next to the oil, water, and flowers, and curled up beside Bilbo. He tugged the hobbit near so that he could use his arm as a shoulder. Bilbo went happily and nuzzled his cheek against the warm skin.

Thorin’s contented exhale ghosted against his face and made Bilbo wiggle closer. He lifted a hand and buried it in the wild hair, scratching his fingers against Thorin’s scalp soothingly. He was extremely tired suddenly, and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep with his beautiful dwarf. His _lover_. Thorin hummed at the touch and draped an arm over Bilbo’s waist to tug him even closer. A hand trailed over his back and came to rest at the small of his back and Thorin pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Bilbo buried his head against Thorin’s shoulder and wrapped his arm tight around the dwarf.

“Just so you know,” Bilbo murmured sleepily as Thorin tugged him still closer to his chest, “if I have a limp in the morning and Bofur notices it and teases me, I’ll probably kill you.” Thorin’s rumbling laughter was the last thing that Bilbo heard before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it is 813 miles from the shire to Erebor. (with out all the mussing about they did in the book/movie. I'm talking straight through all that junk.) I'm moving the geography of Middle Earth around a wee bit, so I apologize. The blue mountains are where the weather hills are in middle earth in this world (that's where weather top is.) A horse can ride around 40 miles a day so these ponies can ride about 30 ish miles a day so we're going to give them a little less month for the journey. I hope your suspension of disbelief will hold on ;)
> 
> Also, I finally gave you the promised bedroom scene. 
> 
> Azygul== love. This will also appear in the fic a lot.


	11. Connected to Each Other

  
_You think the only people who are people_   
_Are the people who look and think like you_   
_But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger_   
_You'll learn things you never knew you never knew_   


_-Colors of the Wind (Pocahontas)_

 

“Have the packs all been dispensed?”

Balin nodded his head and adjusted the pack he had on his own back. Bilbo was already climbing up on Myrtle’s back. He lowered down with a wince and pointedly ignored the chuckle Bofur gave at his obvious discomfort. Thorin shut the merry dwarf up with one impressive glare. Fíli and Kíli were already on their horses as well and looking extremely ready to head towards Erebor. They were a motley looking crew, but Bilbo wouldn’t have wanted to travel with any others.

They had nine dwarves in total. Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Dwalin, Ori, Óin, Bofur, and Glóin. Bilbo brought the group to ten. They had another party of dwarves that would be following them to Erebor to serve in Thorin’s court, but this company would be making haste across the country. They only had thirty days to travel the almost eight hundred miles to the Lonely Mountain.

In honor of their fallen King the dwarves would abstain from their work for that many days. Afterwards they would begin to dig again and Thorin would be at risk to turn into a dragon.

It was going to be tight.

Thorin climbed up on his own pony and rode to the front of the group. He barked something out in khuzdul that sounded like ‘due bakhar’ and the other dwarves responded with cheers. Bilbo was not amused.

It was colder than he had expected and they hadn’t had time for a proper breakfast at all. It felt like they were sneaking out. Bofur had seemed to realize that Bilbo had slept with Thorin immediately, and he’d been teasing him for the past half hour. And now there was more khuzdul flying around. Couldn’t these dwarves speak western like proper people for once?

Thorin raised his fist in the air and then urged his pony forward. The group took off with another cry and Bilbo joined them. Riding, not yelling. It was still too early for that.

Thorin was at the lead with Dwalin and Balin flanking him.  Fíli and Kíli were behind them and Ori, and Óin were trailing behind them. Bilbo and Bofur were behind them and Glóin was bringing up the rear. He had the only horse in the group beside him, a majestic stallion that had their provisions. He’d never traveled in a group this size so far before. Bilbo’s heart was pounding in his chest with each beat of his pony’s hooves against the stone road.

“What are you doing?” Bofur asked the words around the pipe in his mouth and Bilbo nearly laughed at the sight. Some things would never change.

“Riding?” He didn’t think he was doing it wrong. He’d been taught how to ride properly in his first few days at the castle. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Bofur glanced at the front and back to Bilbo.

“You’re supposed to ride next to Thorin.” Bilbo frowned and glanced up at Thorin. He was riding straight backed and sure. The confidence he had in every movement made Bilbo envious. It made sense, but Bilbo wasn’t certain.

“You’re sure? I-”

“You’re going to be consort to the King. You’ve the highest status.” Bofur gave Myrtle’s flank a smack and the horse bolted forward past Óin. Bilbo held on until he was next to Thorin and tried not to let his mouth drop open in utter shock.

Consort. Consort to the king. He tried to mouth the word but it didn’t make any more sense. He understood that Thorin was courting him, and he understood that Thorin was going to Erebor to become her king. They’d just been two very separate things in his mind.  He’d never even paused to think of himself as the King’s spouse-essentially second in command in the Kingdom.

He barely managed to work around dwarf culture as it was! How was he supposed to manage such a high position? He was a simple Hobbit, not a dwarf lord!

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s tentative voice broke through Bilbo’s haze of panic. The dwarf was looking at him with a concerned frown and it made Bilbo feel guilt with his panic. Just what he needed.

“Nothing, Thorin. Bofur said I was supposed to join you?” Thorin’s gaze didn’t lose the concern, but he nodded his head and brought his horse a little closer to Bilbo’s.

“Yes. As my intended you are to be treated as I am.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other talking dwarves. “Plus, I will enjoy your company.” He smiled softly and Bilbo felt a small portion of his panic slide away. “I was sorry we could not enjoy our morning together.”

Bilbo gave his head a little toss, cherishing the feeling of his bead brushing against his cheek. “That’s quite alright, âzyung.” Thorin’s eyes widened at the khuzdul word, one of two that Bilbo now knew. He’d practiced hours with Ori on getting the pronunciation of the simple word right. He anticipated a long, draining journey ahead. Thorin would need all the comforts and joys Bilbo and the others could give.

The look Thorin gave him was full of meaning and made Bilbo's stomach swoop with feelings. He gripped Myrtle's reins tightly and braced for a long, uncomfortable day.

He shifted on Myrtle and sighed. He was already looking forward to their break.

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

 

They rode late into the night and Bilbo could have kissed the ground with bliss when they finally made camp. Thorin sent each member of the camp about to do something-Bilbo was assigned with dinner- and the camp had a fire roaring and stew brewing in a very short amount of time.

“Where do you want to sleep?” Thorin whispered the words in his ears as Bilbo sprinkled sage into the soup. He kept careful control of his hand and managed not to send the spice everywhere. He looked at Thorin who looked far too pleased to have startled him, and frowned.

“I have no idea. I assumed it would be on the bedrolls we packed?” Thorin chuckled and reached around Bilbo to grab a bit of onion and add it to the stew. Bilbo was fairly certain it wasn’t for the flavoring.

“I meant where did you want to place them.” Bilbo, trying not to let Thorin see how much he enjoyed the closeness, shrugged.

“Wherever you want to place them.” Thorin nodded his head and gave Bilbo’s cheek a quick kiss before laying out their bedrolls. Bilbo watched him go with a sinking feeling. Thorin had grown quieter on the ride, more solemn and closed off. Bilbo didn’t expect his lover to be cheerful by any means, but he had hoped that the impending sadness could have been put off for a bit longer. Thorin loved his grandfather dearly, despite the curse he bore because of him. Thrór was giving Thorin the greatest honor he could-his kingdom-but they were riding to see his death. Thorin would make a marvelous king, but he would have little time to mourn the passing of his beloved grandfather.

And Bilbo still had no idea how to cure him. He couldn’t help but feel like he was failing his beloved in that regard.

Even Fíli and Kíli were sitting quietly by the fire.

“The lads are mighty quiet.” Bofur murmured when Bilbo handed him a bowl of stew and brick of bread. Bilbo nodded his head in worry. “We’ve a long journey and I’d hate to start it so solemnly.”

Bilbo nodded his head again and gave Bofur a spoon and knife. “We need a distraction.”

“Aye,” Bofur mused thoughtfully and tapped his knife against the edge of his bowl, “that we do.”

“Don’t do that, you’ll blunt it.” Bilbo corrected automatically. He’d had to stop Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin from doing that same thing countless times.

Bofur’s eyes lit up when Fíli snorted on their other side. Bilbo hadn’t realized he’d spoken so loudly. “Did you hear that lads?” Bofur asked, leaning around Bilbo with a mischievous smirk. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.” He tossed the instrument in question to Kíli who caught it with a laugh.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks,” Kíli sang out gleefully before tossing the silverware at his brother.

“Smash the bottles and burn the corks!”

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates-”

And then everyone in camp but Bilbo and Thorin joined in. “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” Food and cuttlery flew overhead while bowls of soup were traded around in a steady beats. Bilbo watched, mouth gaping in horror as Fíli climbed on top of Kíli’s shoulders and started to toss glasses around to other dwarves that danced merrily around. Bombur started to play his flute while the dwarves continued to sing about brutalizing their dishes and doors.

One of the dwarves took his own soup and added it to the mix of flying objects and Bilbo actually squeaked in fright. That made the crowd of dwarves (including Thorin) laugh even harder.

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” The last words were shouted out as loudly as possible and then Bilbo was holding his soup and bread again. He stared at a still panting Fíli who had handed him his bowl and realized his mouth was gaping.

“Valar save me and the cutlery from dwarves.” Bilbo managed after a minute, which sent Kíli over the edge of his log in a fit of laughter. Bilbo went to a log across from them, pointedly avoiding Bofur’s large smirking face, and started on his soup. A arm draped over his shoulders after a moment and Bilbo leaned into the familiar warmth.

“Thank you, Bilbo.” Thorin whispered into his ear. The other dwarves were already talking animatedly and telling stories around the fire like they should, and Bilbo felt content. He wasn’t a warrior and he couldn’t change the reason they were going to Erebor, but he could do what Hobbits did best. Provide good food and a happy home.

Even if it was a dirty camp and a horrible song about smashing his plates.

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

They rode faster than Bilbo would have thought possible. The country was pretty and the road well traveled. Still, the terrain wasn’t all that simple and they were traveling by the path. Bilbo couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be if you had to make your own way.

They also cut through Rivendell. The contract with the elves, which had been finished at Bilbo’s arrival to the Blue Mountains, allowed elves to cross through their lands if dwarves could pass through elf lands. Bilbo didn’t know why they needed a contract for something that seemed like common courtesy, but he had learned of the dwarves dislike of elves during his stay.

When they reached the gates of the beautiful elf city, Bilbo decided that dislike was far too naive a term. Every single dwarf stiffened as they drew near and the amount of khuzdul muttered or growled under their breaths was astounding.

Dwarves apparently _hated_ elves. Bilbo was amazed he’d been so well received with his pointed ears.

“Stay by my side.” Thorin ordered as they started down the path to Rivendell. Bilbo started out of his elf filled thoughts and looked to his King and intended.

“Hmm?” Thorin was scowling and his normally bright eyes were dark with dislike.

“Stay by my side. The elves are notoriously fond of Hobbits and I would not have them separating us.”

Bilbo was mildly flattered that Thorin was so eager to keep Bilbo near but he didn’t care for the possessiveness in Thorin’s tone. Bilbo had done nothing to make Thorin think he’d leave him even for a second. “You do know I would come back regardless of what they tried?”

Thorin frowned and glared at the trees that adorned the path. “I would rather you not leave my side.”

Bilbo dropped the subject and looked at the elf city. It was beautifully made around it’s surroundings. The falls and trees would have been impressive on their own, the addition of the white buildings that morphed around the trees instead of through them took away Bilbo’s breath.

It was beautiful.

Something of his awe must have shown on Bilbo’s face because Thorin grumbled something in Khuzdul and brought his pony up so that Bilbo’s view of the city was blocked. Bilbo’s mouth popped open to make a comment about how mature of a king Thorin was being, but he decided he’d wait till they were alone.

Lord Elrond greeted them at the cities entrance and Bilbo found himself speechless. He’d heard of elven beauty and caught glimpses of the wood elves that resided near the Shire, but he’d never seen creatures like the High Elves that resided in Rivendell.

They were _beautiful._ Tall and a elegant and bearing a grace that no other creature in Middle Earth could possibly hope to mimic. Their eyes were ancient with knowledge and their voices were like music put to words. Bilbo could have quite happily just sat and listened to them talk for years. It was almost enough to make Bilbo feel ashamed. He was ugly in comparison to them.

Bilbo didn’t even realize he was listening to them in a daze until they were all seated at dinner and Thorin placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. He startled and nearly spilled his juice.

“What?” He hissed to the dwarf, trying not to blush.

“We will retire to our room after dinner. It seems we will be unable to leave without spending a night.” Thorin’s face scrunched up the slightest bit as he spoke, making his disdain quite apparent.

Elrond had invited Bilbo and Ori to look at their library and the Hobbit wanted to see it. They might even have something on curses.

“Actually,” Bilbo whispered back, mindful of all the other people at the table. “I think I’m going to look at their library.”

Thorin’s face hardened and the hand he had on Bilbo’s thigh tightened. “It would please me if you would remain at my side.” He didn’t make it sound at all like a request. He made it sound like a demand and Bilbo did not appreciate it. He turned his attention back to the elves and ignored the dwarf at his side and the hand on his thigh.

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

Elrond’s library was beautiful. Ori’s gasp said everything Bilbo couldn’t verbalize. There were books everywhere, in more languages than Bilbo knew existed, and on every subject.

“What do you desire to know?” a very pretty elf by the name of Lindir asked. Ori glanced at Bilbo and Bilbo decided that Hobbit tact would work better than dwarf bluntness.

“I’m fascinated with magic. Do you have a section on it?” Lindir’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and Bilbo continued, working not to sound too hasty. “There’s a tree in the Shire that grows the largest apples in all of Middle Earth. It’s rumored to have been enchanted and I’ve always wanted to know what sort of magic that used.” Lindir’s gaze softened at the excited expression Bilbo gave him and the extremely innocent look that Ori managed to pull off. The regal elf went down a column of books on the left before heading straight to the back.

Leathers of all colors greeted their eyes and the two book lovers immediately surged forward. Lindir watched them for a moment before retreating to his own studies.

“I’ve found enchantments,” Ori murmured eagerly.

“And here are curses.”

“Where should we start?” Ori looked as if he genuinely could not decide between books.

Bilbo, peering at his own book with anticipation and worry, didn’t look up. “With whatever you’ve got your hand on.” He glanced at the shelf in front of him and felt his stomach twist. It was going to be a long evening, but hopefully by the end of it, they would know a bit more about curses.

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

“Where have you been?” Thorin demanded the moment Bilbo returned to the room he was sharing with Thorin. The buzz of excitement and contentment Bilbo had felt from his browse through the elven library faded away. Thorin was down to his bed clothes and their was an angry fire in his eyes. He’d taken his braids out and Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that the flowers he had put in put in Thorin’s hair were laying on the desk, mostly crumpled.

“In the library with Lord Elrond and Ori.” Bilbo answered. He took off his cloak and set it on the chair. Thorin kept his arms crossed over his chest and his frown didn’t lessen.

“For four hours?” Bilbo took off his weskit and laid it with his cloak before nodding his head.

“Since I last saw you. Lord Elrond was very helpful. Ori and I have several new-”

“I told you I wanted you to stay by my side.”

Bilbo couldn’t keep the frown away. He meant to be calm and rational and assure Thorin that he could be sure of Bilbo but if Thorin was going to play the part of a petulant two year old who didn’t want to share his toy, well, Bilbo would join him.

“And I told you I was going to the library.” He brought his hands to his hips and glared right back at the dwarf king. “It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“They’re trying to take you!” Thorin bellowed, and Bilbo backed up a step in surprise.

“Why are you so angry? It was a _library_ and I wasn’t even alone! I had Ori with me the entire time.” Bilbo insisted. He would not back down on this.

“Because it is another thing I can do nothing to stop!” Thorin very nearly roared. Bilbo was startled by how very obvious it was in that moment that Thorin was a warrior. He could vividly imagine him rallying his dwarves to fight some impossible foe. He could hear the roar of the enemy and picture Thorin using his tone and presence to encourage his dwarves. He could see the dwarf that had killed orcs and other foul beast. The power and knowledge in his eyes was humbling and Bilbo wasn’t certain he wanted to hear whatever was about to come out. Thorin faltered for a moment, his eyes wide and wild. He breathed hard and fisted his hands before deciding to continue.

“I am constantly made to appear all powerful and in control yet _I have none_.” He turned sharply so his back was to Bilbo. “Never do I make decision for my life-and it is my life to live! Can I not decided how I shall live it? I am forced to bear a curse that should never have existed. I am forced to take a throne I did not desire. I am now forced to board with those that have betrayed my family, and they are trying to win the affection of the one that I have given my heart.” Thorin shook his head and stepped towards the bed, dropping his gaze to the floor. Bilbo was breathless. “And I ride to see my grandfather die so that he can give me the responsibility of a city I have burned.”

There was a lot in that outburst that Bilbo had no idea what to do with. Actually, he had no idea what to do with any of it.

“I am losing everything.” Thorin mourned, sinking onto the soft bed with a crumpling face. He buried his face in his hands and pain shot through Bilbo’s heart at the muffled sound that broke through his hands. He’d had no idea-and he’d only made everything worse by spending his time with Elrond and not learning what was bothering his husband-to-be. Bilbo surged forward, his anger forgotten and he wrapped his arms around Thorin. Thorin returned the embrace and held him tightly, burying his head in Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo lamented his short stature violently and tried to wrap his arms further around the dwarf’s vast back. He could offer so little, but he’d comfort him the best he could. The wetness that fell against his collar broke his heart even further and Bilbo felt his own, silent, tears join Thorin’s.

Bilbo clutched Thorin tightly and peppered what little of his face he could see with kisses in an attempt at comfort, and something in Thorin changed. His hand cupped Bilbo’s face and he felt himself being pushed back on the bed. Thorin climbed over him and suddenly Bilbo was drowning in the dwarf. His clothes were stripped off quickly, his pants fell to the floor with a thump and his shirt joined them; and then he was being pushed up so that his head was on the pillow and Thorin was over him, equally naked with wild eyes. Bilbo’s heart started to pound and he felt like he was running in a race. Thorin took Bilbo’s mouth in another kiss that made his toes curl and his mind utterly reel. He wasn’t sure how he’d gone from his emotionally distraught dwarf to this wild passionate dwarf but Thorin seemed to need it so Bilbo was going to go along for the ride.

Bilbo’s head fell back against the pillows and his hands tightened on Thorin’s shoulders. He broke away from the kiss, struggling to catch his breath as Thorin kissed his throat and jaw. It was like coupling with a thunderstorm-chaotic and breathless and powerful. Thorin’s muscles rippled under his hands and Bilbo realized just how much stronger than him Thorin was. He practically shone with might, and Bilbo couldn’t get a grip on him. He was so brilliant and bright and his power whispered at Bilbo, wordless and unable to be controlled by Bilbo.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered against him, so full of longing that the words settled into Bilbo’s stomach like an actual object. His skin flushed and he clutched to Thorin all the tighter. He could feel Thorin’s cock brushing against his own, hot and already slick. Thorin nosed softly at his face and pressed kisses wherever he was touching.

“Thorin!” Bilbo gasped, and then he cried out loud as Thorin rolled his nipples between his calloused fingers. Bilbo had never understood how they could be so sensitive until Thorin had taken him to bed. Heat was crackling along Bilbo’s skin wherever Thorin’s fingers and lips touched him, and the tiny flashes of contact had Bilbo’s hips thrusting upwards and his back arching off the bed. His head pressed back into the soft pillow and his entire world shattered before being remade far brighter as Thorin’s clever mouth closed on Bilbo’s cock. The warm, moist heat was beyond perfect and nothing Bilbo did could stifle the noise he made as Thorin took him down over and over again. The dwarfs hands stayed on him the entire time, one holding his hip down while the other stroked his side almost reverently. It felt as if the dwarf was worshiping him with his mouth, hands, and body and it made Bilbo keen.

Far too quickly Thorin drew back and rose over to Bilbo and Bilbo realized he had his hand buried in Thorin’s hair, tightly grasping the strands. He met Bilbo’s eyes, his own feverish and dark with need, and pushed Bilbo’s legs apart. Thorin settled between them and Bilbo couldn’t catch his breath around the aching need he felt. He spread his legs wider and wrapped them around Thorin’s hips, holding him close and tight. Fingers fumbled to prepare him and Bilbo had to bite his lips to keep from screaming at how good it was all feeling as Thorin continued to kiss, lick, and nip all that he could reach.

Thorin pulled back and prepared himself while Bilbo scrambled for something to hold onto. He brought his arms up and clenched the headboard as Thorin settled back forward and drove into him in one quick thrust.

“Yes,” he was vaguely aware of panting as Thorin pulled back only to thrust back in, “yes! Thorin-” Thorin moved against him powerfully, an unbeatable force. Like a gale or avalanche, something one couldn’t brace against and could only meet. He couldn’t bring his mind around to think of anything besides the feel of Thorin in him, around him, and the feel of their coupling crackling in the air. He didn’t want to think outside of it because that would mean accepting that it would end and Bilbo didn’t want to have to bear it ending.

Thorin kept one hand on Bilbo’s waist to give himself more leverage, and rested his weight on his other forearm. He wormed his hand under Bilbo and cradled his head in the large hand. Bilbo could feel the blunt nails scratch against his scalp as Thorin tried to kiss him. It was more of a meeting of mouths than a real kiss because of how hard they were gasping. Thorin’s finger twisted around a lock of hair and grasped at the bead that signaled who Bilbo was courting. He gave it a gentle tug and Bilbo found himself moaning.

“Men Bilbo, men u amab? Men âzyung mentu. Ghivashel-” The words spilled from Thorin’s tongue and Bilbo had no idea what most of them meant. He still didn’t think there was a more beautiful sound than Thorin murmuring to him in khuzdul when they were like this. He sounded nearly out of his mind, and it was _Bilbo_ that had put him there. And it was Bilbo he was speaking to in his native tongue. The deep, throaty, rough syllables sounded dangerous at any other time but Thorin made them sound like promises and love and longing and everything Bilbo felt that he couldn’t put into words.

He let go of the banister and grabbed at Thorin who made voiceless and desperate cries as he moved in Bilbo. Every thrust seemed perfectly aimed to his prostate and the hobbit had no control of his mouth. Thorin eyed him with his heavily dilated eyes, seeming delighted by every noise Bilbo made. “Thorin!” He groaned, stuttery and so urgent. He closed his eyes as Thorin thrust harder and faster, and it was everything he had wanted. The twisting feeling in his stomach tightened and then Thorin let go of his hip and moved the hand to cup Bilbo’s cheek for a kiss. The hobbit’s head threw back as his orgasm exploded through him.

And endless amount of time later he came back to himself to find Thorin peering down at him almost frantically. “Bilbo?” He asked in a broken, frightened voice. Bilbo blinked hazily, again, and smiled at his lover. He couldn’t find his voice so he settled for touching Thorin’s face and mouth. He trailed his knuckles down Thorin’s throat and settled his hand on the dwarfs shoulder. He lifted up and pressed a sloppy kiss to Thorin’s mouth before slinking back to the bed in exhaustion. Thorin laid beside him and took his hand, kissing it on his knuckles and wrist. Bilbo watched with a swell of love before bringing his hand up and sliding it into Thorin’s thick hair. The dwarf leaned over  and took long slow kisses, and Bilbo was utterly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> âzyung == love. Will also be appearing a lot right next to Ghivashel.
> 
> Men Bilbo, men u amab? Men âyzung mentu. Ghivashel == My Bilbo, do I dream? I love you. Treasure of all treasures-
> 
> Also, surprise Lindir. Yes, Lindir, because as much as I love the name Figwit, Lindir sounds far more elven.


	12. Eyes That Shine Like Stars

  
_In a thundering herd we feel a lot like cattle_   
_Like the pounding beat,_   
_Our aching feet aren't easy to ignore,_   


_Hey! Think of instead, a  guy worth fighting for!_

_-A Girl Worth Fighting for (Mulan)_

* * *

_  
_   


Bilbo woke up to the feeling of something tickling his nose. He sneezed abruptly and that woke him up. The sun was already up and the heat on his skin was extremely pleasant.

Someone was laying on his chest, and it was their hair that had tickled his nose and made him sneeze. He sucked in a surprised breath and the scent of smoke, metal, and earth filled his nostrils.

_Thorin._

A strange giddiness filled Bilbo’s chest and his arms tightened around the sleeping dwarf. He was draped half on Bilbo’s chest; his head tucked under Bilbo’s chin, his legs between both of Bilbo’s, and his arm looped around the Hobbit. His arm gripped Bilbo when he fidgeted and he let the dwarf hold him close. His eyes drifted to look at the sleeping face as best he could, and he studied him for a moment before lifting his free hand up. He hovered his fingertips just over Thorin’s lips, not touching, just feeling. The quiet exhales were barely noticeable, but he could feel it. The heat of his breath, the very source of his life. Thorin.

The reality that he was there, sleeping with Bilbo knocked into Bilbo with the force of a Troll hammer and utterly drew the breath out of the Hobbit. Gratitude and love welled up inside him and he couldn’t hold back from touching the beloved face.

He started with his face. Soft, barely there caresses to feel his skin. He traced the contours of the familiar face, soft brushes of his fingertips over the strong jaw, down the sharp nose, through the beard. His hand trailed down the neck and paused over the pulse he could feel there.

His heart was beating, strong and powerful under his fingertips. His hand went lower, delicately touching the crook of Thorin’s elbow, tracing the faint freckles on his chest. He was pale, undoubtedly his chest and back had seldom ever been allowed to see sunlight with the sheer amount of clothing Thorin was always wearing. Bilbo would like to take him to Bag End someday and sunbathe with him in the back garden where none would see them. Thorin looked so remarkable with sunlight in his hair.

Thorin snuffled in his sleep and tucked his head closer to Bilbo’s throat. It was a marvelously innocent thing, and reminded Bilbo more of Frodo on the long nights after his parents death, than the strong dwarf he usually saw. Until last night.

Thorin had kind of terrified him a bit last night, and Bilbo wasn’t really sure what to do with that.

He wasn't used to not really being able to do anything for someone when they needed him. His parents had left him fairly well off, so he was good for financial support, and he was a great shoulder to cry on.

Right now he just felt useless. He couldn't help Thorin in anyway but holding his hand, and he couldn't be sure that would even help. All he could do was touch him and tell him that he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t even say for certain if he would ever even be able to cure him. It certainly didn't seem like he was going to be able to right now. He knew more about the general nature of curses, and the transferring of them, but there was nothing on curing them. The curses had just been transferred to another object. Something important enough that the curse would see it as worth switching.

When Thorin woke up Bilbo would greet him with a kiss and not a single complaint. He’d fix him breakfast, listen to his plans for the day, ignore the elves, and pack their belongings as quickly as possible. He’d love every minute of it and smile as much as possible because that always made Thorin happy.

He needed Thorin to be happy.

If Bilbo was honest with himself, and it seemed like a good time to be honest-he was the only one up and his thoughts were his only company, he might as well be honest-he just didn't know what to do. He wasn't all that used to actually needing people.  Bilbo didn’t know how to handle it. People needed him, and he always prefered it that way. It was easier being needed than needing. It was safer, and so very much less painful. Needing someone when things got tough left the needer wide open to pain. Bilbo had become acquainted with that knowledge at a very young age.

He wasn't sure how he even got to this point. Thorin had been his captor for the first day, until they’d met and Bilbo realized how much the dwarf Prince had needed him. Then he’d just wanted to help him and he’d let the dwarf become a friend. Then Bilbo had realized that Thorin was nearly perfect, and the not-perfect parts made him seem even more perfect. He was handsome and strong and more majestic than Bilbo had known a being could be, and Bilbo had just wanted to be with him.

So now he needed the dwarf. He could feel it all over, deep in his skin, in his heart, in his head, even the air him seemed to state the fact. He needed the dwarf to guide him, he needed his unfailing heart and sometimes-but-not-really-annoying stubbornness.

He’d told Thorin that he loved him, but he was beginning to realize the words meant more than just ‘I love you.’ They also meant, _I need you_ , and _please don’t leave me_.

And last night Thorin had said the same thing to him. Thorin had allowed Bilbo to see what was in his heart, and Bilbo felt so gifted and so in love.

Bilbo had no idea how long he had been laying there, petting Thorin’s arm, when he was startled away from his somewhat tangled thoughts by a dry kiss being pressed to his throat.

“Gamut baknd, men Bilbo.” Thorin brushed his lips against Bilbo’s throat again. “That means: good morning, my Bilbo.”

“Gamut baknd, men âzygul.” Thorin’s lips faltered and then he was pushing himself up and looking down at Bilbo with eyes that made Bilbo’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Ghivashel,” Thorin murmured as he brushed his knuckles against Bilbo’s cheeks. Bilbo leaned up to initiate a proper kiss and a knock sounded at the door.

He certainly didn’t whine.

Thorin brought the cover over them and turned to look at the door with a scowl. “What?” The door cracked open as Balin and Bofur peered in. The older dwarf kept his eyes on the far wall while Bofur was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. Bilbo wished he had something to chuck at his friend.

“We are ready to depart whenever you are, sire.” Balin said as quickly as possible before shutting the door again. Thorin sighed heavily and sat up, swinging his legs over the side so Bilbo had an excellent view of his back.

“I was meant to rise before the sun.” He looked over his shoulder and caught Bilbo ogling him. The smirk he gave Bilbo in return was extremely smug but Bilbo wasn’t apologetic. Thorin had a very nice back and bum. “How have you turned me into a laze? I wish to remain in bed with you. In an elven bed.” Thorin shook his head and let out a huffing laugh that made Bilbo blush.

“Well then. He slipped off his side of the bed and stretched his arms and back until he heard a crack. It was Thorin’s turn to ogle. “It’s time to leave the elves behind.” Bilbo took a step forward and winced. He shot Thorin a dirty look, blushing only slightly under the heated gaze that was being sent his way. “And I have to ride a horse yet again. I think I should punish you.”

Thorin stood up and was by Bilbo’s side so swiftly that Bilbo hardly registered the actual movements. “That would be quite agreeable.” Thorin mumbled before stealing Bilbo’s lips in all too brief of a kiss. “Come. Let us dress and slip away before the elves can think of a reason to detain us.”

-[]-[o]-[]-

The elves had no excuse to delay them so the Company of dwarves road on to Erebor. They took the high pass through the mountain which involved several cold days of treacherous mountain climbing. If Bilbo never had to steer a pony through a blizzard on a thin mountain trail again, he’d count himself extremely lucky. He’d been grumpy most of the climb and descent, and he’d made Thorin turn away sad more than once.

They made it down the other side of the mountain and to a beautiful little valley. The daunting forest of Greenwood was ahead and the dwarves were not eager to go through it.

Bilbo was quite excited. He missed the site of growing things like trees.

The valley was covered with little streams that flowed from the Anduin river that the dwarves and Hobbit would be fording the next day.

Which is how Bilbo found himself in his current circumstances. Myrtle, who was quite crabby after the whole ‘treacherous mountain’ thing was being rather finicky about where she walked. She didn’t care for the water at all and she tossed her head every time she had to lower hoof to something wet.

She chose the moment they were walking over a particularly deep stream to completely overreact. She reared back with a whine and shook all over. Bilbo, who had been asking Thorin if he knew of any gardens in Erebor in an attempt to make up for his dreadful behaviour on the mountain, was tossed. He fell of Myrtle with a scream that was embarrassingly girlish and fell into water that felt more like ice.

“Bilbo!” Thorin slid off his horse and ran to Bilbo with a concerned shout and Bilbo, flailing a bit at the icy sting of the water, pushed himself up. Only to promptly slip on the muddy ground and fall right back down. Thorin reached his side and helped him up gingerly.

Bilbo straightened and spluttered before his entire body shook with shivers. Bofur came over and tossed a blanket over his shoulder. Thorin wrapped it around him properly while Fíli and Kíli wrangled a still annoyed Myrtle.

“Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?” Bilbo tried to snap but it came out jittery and not at all intimidating. Bofur studied him with a cocked head and his chin propped on his fist.

“No. You look a bit like a drowned rat.”

“That’s enough, Bofur. Bilbo, do you need a rest?”

“I am never sneaking her another apple.” Bilbo replied as he shook his head ‘no.’ He couldn’t feel his toes any longer. His head was still spinning and he was cold all over. Blasted horse and her attitude.

“You’re freezing,” Thorin observed in alarm. He tugged Bilbo closer and only succeeded in dampening his own clothing.

“I’m fine.” Bilbo insisted, though his teeth chattered a bit. Thorin looked very unimpressed and wrapped his arms around Bilbo. Fíli and Kíli had Myrtle wrangled and were riding back.

“Uncle, is everything okay?” Fíli slid from his pony and went straight to Bilbo who was trembling quite hard. He couldn’t control it at all, and he was quite certain the wind had picked up and the temperature had to have dropped by at least ten degrees. The blankets weren’t helping a lot.

“Have we got any more blankets?” Thorin asked instead of answering. He wrapped his arm tighter around Bilbo and blocked him from the wind. He lowered his head over Bilbo and it felt like Thorin was trying to wrap himself like a coat around Bilbo. He tucked Bilbo’s head into his furs before wrapping him with several more blankets.

“Kíli!”

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Guide Myrtle. Bilbo will ride with me.” Bilbo then found himself being lifted up and carried to Thorin’s horse. He was then set on Minty and Thorin swooped up behind him before Bilbo quite knew what was going on. The dwarf situated himself, scooting up against Bilbo’s back before wrapping a strong arm around his chest and tugging him close. He brought his head beside Bilbo and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

They rode off and it took Bilbo a few minutes to realize that the dwarf had also wrapped his own cloak around him. He blushed and fidgeted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to cause any problems.

“We will make camp on the border of the forest. Lean into me. I’ll warm you properly when we stop.”

BIlbo’s cheeks instantly flushed and he realized how close Thorin was pressed up against him. He spluttered and gripped Minty’s mane in embarrassment. Thorin saw his reaction and chuckled. “With a fire, Bilbo. Though I will be happy to ignite a fire in you as well.”

Bilbo couldn’t wait to get to the trees.

-[]-[o]-[]-

“How are your khuzdul lesson coming?” Thorin asked riding alongside Bilbo as they slowly picked their way through the forest. It was a beautiful forest and had a nice path, but the trees had decided that they weren’t going to let a path stop them from growing. They were making it very hard to move forward and seemed to enjoy the trouble they caused the Company. Bilbo snorted and shook his head.

“Well enough. Balin is an excellent teacher but I’m having trouble with the pronunciation. I’m apparently not gruff enough to be a dwarf.”

Thorin regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “I should think not.”

“It comes with the beard!” Kíli called from behind and Bilbo laughed in reply.

“How would you know?” Bofur asked from the very back and Fíli nearly fell off his horse laughing.

Kíli turned on his horse to make a snarky reply and his hair got caught on one of the branches invading the path. He yelped in pain as his pony kept going forward and his hair was dragged back. His hand went flying to his head and clutching at his scalp and then he let out an impressive string of curses.

“These branches are sons of trolls!”

“Why don’t you just pull your hair back?” Bilbo suggested. Kíli brightened up immediately and tugged the clasp that held his hair back off. He removed a strip of leather and pulled his wavy hair back and up. A moment later he had it bound back with an immensely proud look on his face. Fíli regarded him for a moment before shrugging and doing the same to his own hair. Bofur unwound his braids while Dwalin fixed Ori’s hair. The only one not fixing their hair was Thorin.

“Come on, Thorin.” Bilbo encouraged as he urged Myrtle forward so he was alongside the dwarf. “It’ll make it easier with the trees and we need to save all the time we can.”

“I am a King, not a dwarf-”

“Not yet. You’re a dwarf that needs to stop getting twigs and branches caught in his mane. No one will think less of you.” Thorin huffed and looked at everyone else with their hair up. Bilbo took the momentary distraction and gripped his knees tight around Myrtle. He leaned forward and pulled Thorin’s hair back before pulling one of the leather strips that held his own braids together and tying it into Thorin’s hair. He sat back on his horse and looked at his lover, ignoring the impressive glare that was being sent at him.

And somehow the dwarf made even _that_ look majestic and Bilbo really just wanted to huff. He had no right to look so attractive with his hair up like a hobbit lass. He didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until Thorin laughed.  The dwarf reached over and tied Bilbo’s hair back as well with a satisfied smirk. “There, now we all look like Hobbit lasses.”

Well, at least they could look odd together.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Bilbo missed his bed. He missed the hot baths in the morning and the vast collections of books that filled the libraries in the blue mountains. But there was something fun about camping in the woods. The dwarves disliked it, which was apparent in their constant muttering as they made camp at night, but Bilbo enjoyed laying under the trees. He was always tired after their long days of riding and the rest was welcome. It was quite dark in the forest though.

He missed star light.

“You are distracted, Ghivashel.” Thorin whispered in his ears, the words a low, secretive breath for Bilbo only. Everyone else was asleep, save for Dwalin who took the first watch.

“Just thinking.” Bilbo replied. He rolled to his side and pressed closer to Thorin’s warm mass. He had his hair down for sleep and Bilbo let his hand drift into the thick locks. Thorin pressed against the touch and tilted his head to press a kiss to Bilbo’s fingertips. Bilbo could hardly make out Thorin’s shape in the darkness. He wondered what expression his lover was making and settled for tangling his leg between Thorin’s.

“What of?”

“That’s it’s dark and I miss the light of the night. The moon and stars.”

“Their beauty is exquisite, but I find the dark comforting. It reminds me of the darkness of my bedroom as a lad.”

“I’d like to see it.” Bilbo brushed his fingers against Thorin’s cheek and the dwarf smiled at the simple caress. Bilbo could feel the muscles of his face moving to form it.

“The night there challenges even the sight of a dwarf.”

“You mean you can see in the dark?” Bilbo had never considered that. It made sense though.Dwarves were adapted to working in dark caves with little more than candle light.

Thorin stilled against Bilbo’s hand and tilted his head a little. He could feel the muscles in Thorin’s head twitching and he imagined the furrowed brow he was probably receiving. “I could count the strands of hair on your head in this current light.”

Bilbo blinked and then grinned sheepishly. “While you look lovely in the soft light of night, think I like you best in sunlight.” Thorin added after a moment. Bilbo blushed and tucked his face into Thorin’s hair to hide his flaming cheeks. Thorin was forever whispering beautiful words like that and Bilbo had nothing to respond with. He didn’t believe half of it either. He wasn’t extremely fetching by any races standards. Still, it was clear that Thorin, for whatever reason, did truly think that Bilbo was attractive.

A warm mouth pressed a kiss at the top of his head and Thorin’s beard caught slightly at his hair. “Did I not say you were lovely? Do not hide your beauty from me.” Bilbo chuckled against Thorin’s chest and pulled back slightly to look at Thorin.

“There you are, my Ghivashel.” Thorin’s calloused finger trailed down his cheek and didn’t stop till it reached his throat. “I shall clothe you in such jewels when we reach Erebor. All will know of the value you hold to me.” Thorin would talk like that, his voice low and thick, deep as the earth, and he’d tell him about their future and what Erebor was like. It had started the second night of their journey, and Bilbo had looked forward to the nights when Thorin would speak more than any others.

Thorin’s hand slid down Bilbo’s back as he spoke about crowns and sapphires to match Bilbo’s eyes. Jewels had little interest to Bilbo, but he loved to hear Thorin promise him love and a future. He’d even promised to have Frodo brought to Erebor, but not until he was cured. He wouldn’t risk the hobbit-lad until there was no chance of dragon fire.

Bilbo listened to him talk long into the night and dreamt of stone halls and shining cities.

-[]-[o]-[]-

They’d ridden most of the day when Thorin suddenly jolted and Minty reared. Thorin fell off his horse and hit the ground with a bellow of pain that made the blood in Bilbo’s veins freeze. The entire company froze. Bilbo brought Myrtle around and near to Minty who seemed to want to get closer to Thorin but couldn’t. The dwarf in question should up with wide eyes and staggered back from the rest of the dismounting group. “It cannot be.” The words were nothing more than a shadow of a whisper before Thorin dropped to his knees, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of terror on his face as he doubled over and gripped his stomach. He spoken in broken khuzdul, utterly breathless and pained. Bilbo stumbled forward three feet only to be abruptly stopped by Balin grabbing his arms in a surprisingly strong grip.

“What are you-Thorin!” Bilbo tried to twist his arm free but Balin tugged him back.

“Let him go laddie, he’s-”

“Dragon,” Thorin moaned before pressing his forehead to the ground. Bilbo could see the muscles in his arms flexing from how tightly he was clenching his fist.

“But-the month?” Kili asked, his face drawn and pale. Fíli was at his side, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Someone has started mining early.” Óin stated. He strode forward and knelt beside Thorin, murmuring quietly. He rolled the dwarf onto his back and Bilbo was utterly shocked how feverish Thorin already looked. He tossed his head and moaned in misery.

“Why would they do that?” Fíli growled out, his eyes flashing. “They know that Thorin is traveling and we need all the days.”

“That is not our concern at the moment.” Óin lifted his head and peered at the dwarves with a frown. “We are miles from Erebor yet, and we have only a little sunlight left. We cannot transport him in this condition. He will burn any who tries to touch him and the horse could not escort him, let alone any of our ponies.”

“They can carry me.” Bilbo may as well have stripped and done a dance for the looks it earned him. Everyone but Dwalin looked as if he was speaking gibberish. Balin even loosened his grip. Bilbo wrenched his arm free and took a step back. It was almost a physical pain, moving away from Thorin. A pain that settled in his chest and made it clear it would not be leaving till he could embrace Thorin. The knowledge that he was the only way the dwarves could survive, and Thorin not be utterly destroyed by guilt. There was only one thing to do, and no time in which to do it. He rushed to Asfaloth’s side and pulled the packs off the horse’s back while the other dwarves looked on in confusion.

“Dwalin? I’m afraid I’m going to need you to lead the others toward the falls. I’m going to be going to Erebor by myself it would seem…” Bofur stood up immediately and started towards him but Bilbo shook his head frantically.

“No! You all have to stay. Keep him safe until I’m gone. Fíli? You’ll need to stay with him when the others leave. Don’t tell him I’ve left till he’s about to change. That way I can make it as close to the city as possible.” He tightened the horse’s saddle. “Leave the moment you tell him and ride as swiftly as you can.”

“Are we sure he’ll chase you, laddie?” Balin asked. Ori huffed and gathered his notebooks.

“Does no one read my reports? Remember when Thorin went mad during his last few cycles? We had to figure out what he wanted lest he destroy the castle?”

“You write reports on me?”

Ori shook his head. “No, on the general going ons of the castle. That was a fairly big going on.”

Balin nodded. “Yes, he nearly broke the chains.”

Ori shuffled his feet before blurting: “We took Bilbo to him.”

“You what?” Balin’s voice took on a neutral tone Bilbo had never heard him use before. Fíli and Kíli shuddered violently though. They clearly knew it well.

“We haven’t time for this. I snuck in and Thorin calmed right down. Apparently I’m now part of his treasure trove. He was searching for me the entire time, so it stands to reason he’ll search for me again.” Bilbo fastened the little sword to his waist and struggled to get on to Asfaloth until Dwalin and Fíli hoisted him up. “Keep him safe and try to stay away from any dragon fire.” Bilbo bent low over the horse and whispered into the white ear.

“Away, my pretty. We’ll have a dragon after us. Best to show these dwarves and ponies what haste really means.” Asfaloth reared back and then shot off before Bilbo could even exhale. He gripped the reign as tightly as possible and kept his legs gripped to the horses side as it moved powerfully beneath him. The camp disappeared from sight as the sun set in the distance and Bilbo felt his stomach tighten. He had thirty minutes at most before Thorin would change. Another ten minutes after that before he was found by the black dragon. It would be close. He might reach the mountain but he had little prayer for making it to the treasure trove.

He forgot to calculate the fact that a horse could ride faster than a pony. The countryside melted away as Erebor grew closer. Bilbo didn’t believe he had ever moved so fast in his life. The wind couldn’t even match them in their haste. They had only just reached the gates of Erebor when a roar that made every creature, human, dwarf, hobbit, elf, animal, orc, troll, and the like shudder with mortal terror. It was a sound that Bilbo could feel in his very bones, and one that spoke of peril in the most real of ways.

It was the call of a dragon. An angry one.

Bilbo sent a quiet prayer up for his friends and ducked lower on Asfaloth until his chin was pressed against the horse’s mane. dwarves were screaming and ducking into the nearest houses as Bilbo flew past them. He heard bird cries as he neared the castle doors and he closed his eyes against hope. He opened them a moment later to see guards scrambling to open them. Asfaloth ran through them and showed no signs of slowing down. Bilbo didn’t even have to guide him as he curved around halls and down passages. Another terrible cry echoed somewhere behind him as they neared a vast door. That had to be the treasure room.

“Abandon your post!” Bilbo cried. The guards he was speaking to looked horrified but Bilbo didn’t waste time talking. Thorin was right behind him. He’d be here in another moments and the guards would be dead. “He’s coming for me and his treasure. Flee if you want to live!” Asfaloth stopped in front of the door and Bilbo slid off his back. He shoved the nearest dwarf towards him and the other one scrambled to get on the horses back. Bilbo smacked Asafaloth’s flank and the horse took off down the other hall. Bilbo, panting from exertion and panic, pushed at the treasure rooms door only to find them locked tight.

“Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!” Bilbo hissed. He heard a terrible crash behind him and a searing heat. His eyes slipped shut in fear and his fingers trembled vainly against the stone of the door. A moment later and he felt claws close around his stomach he was pulled backwards and into a hot chest. A huff of air, hotter than a furnace, brushed across his face and Bilbo opened his eyes. Gold eyes stared at him, crazed with gold lust and so frightened. It broke Bilbo’s heart. He placed a still trembling hand on the claw around his stomach and leaned back into his dragon’s chest. Thorin seemed to relax minutely, and a moment later he knocked the door down with his tail. He took a few thundering steps forward and then he dove into the mounds of gold-more than Bilbo had ever seen in his life- and took Bilbo with him.

 


	13. Some Power In Your Corner Now

 

 

 

 

  
_Yes sir, we pride ourselves on service_   
_You're the boss_   
_The king, the shah_   
_Say what you wish_   
_It's yours! True dish_   
_How about a little more Baklava?_

_-Friend Like Me (Aladdin)_

* * *

_  
_

 

Bilbo scrambled wildly to surface. He didn’t particularly care about gold and jewels, and he most certainly did not have the dragonish appetite to be _buried_ in them.

He broke through and gasped in a deep lungful of air as the gold around him churned around Thorin. He turned his head to see what the dragon was doing when there was a sudden pressure on his chest and hot, moist breath on his face. He let out a startled gasp, scrambling to get hold of something as he was lifted up. A confusing moment later found the Hobbit in the air and feeling like he was falling. A loud noise billowed around him and Bilbo yelped in fright and confusion. He promptly felt himself being pulled down (so he wasn’t falling then) and tugged close to an impossibly hard and hot chest so that they were chest to chest. Smoke flew around him and Bilbo coughed violently. His body shook with the force of them and it was several long minutes before he caught his breath and relaxed.

Something hard nuzzled his back and Bilbo blinked in utter loss. He was pressed against Thorin’s dragon chest, and the dragon had his head pressed on top Bilbo’s back. They had made it to Erebor. His ludicrous excuse for a plan had actually worked.

He hoped the others had been as lucky.

“Bilbo.” The voice was loud, almost too loud for Bilbo to comprehend, and it was roared right next to him. A puff of extremely hot air hit Bilbo’s back and he jolted against Thorin’s chest.

He hadn’t realized Thorin could talk when he was a dragon.

“Bilbo.” The head dug into his back a bit harder this time and Bilbo realized abruptly that he was sweating quite hard. His heart was beating far too quickly and his breath was coming in short gasps. It was his bodies natural response to being so close to a dragon, but this was _Thorin._ He’d already spent the night in this dragon’s embrace. In dwarf form and dragon form. He was hardly scared of him.

It was uncomfortably hot though.

 _“My_ Bilbo.” The words were far rougher and possessive in a way Bilbo had never heard before. A sharp claw draped over him and pressed him closer into the chest. It pushed the little air he had right out of his lungs and he had to twist his head so he could gasp for more. “They tried to steal you, tried to dress you as their own. You are _mine_. None others shall ever have you. No other shall ever take you away from me. I will destroy any who dare try. You will not leave me. I will chain you before I allow you to depart from me.”

Bilbo stopped gasping for breath for a long moment and gaped stupidly. The voice that bellowed above him sounded a faint bit like Thorin, but it couldn’t have been Thorin. Not his noble dwarf who promised beautiful things and loved Bilbo more than the Hobbit had thought possible.

Something wet stroked down the expanse of Bilbo from the tip of his head to the bottom of his toe and the Hobbit jerked against the dragon chest in surprise. Was that a _tongue_?

“I-what?” Bilbo wasn’t fully aware he was speaking until his mouth clicked shut. Thorin’s chest rumbled underneath him and seemed to grow even hotter.

“You tried to run from me!”

In all the time that Bilbo had known Thorin, and that included his other rendezvous with the dragon, he had never been frightened of the dwarf. Thorin was powerful and not just in the political sense, he also had an incredible amount of physical strength. Something Bilbo had had the chance to explore in far more pleasurable circumstances. He’d seen Thorin angry and possessive, sad and broken. He’d even seen Thorin as a mysterious ‘Lord’ who had summoned him for unknown reasons. He’d laid beside him in dragon form and actually felt safe.

So he had no idea what to do with the terror that ran down his spine at the dragon Thorin’s words. Thorin’s tongue licked at him again and a deeply pleased rumble came from his throat. “Yes. You should fear. You are mine to do with as I please.” He pressed down harder on Bilbo and the Hobbit saw stars.

“Can’t breathe!” He choked out. The pressure instantly lessened and Bilbo swallowed as much air as he could gratefully. The stars faded and the intense burning in his lungs dwindled. Thorin huffed and nuzzled over him, almost like he was trying to check him for damages.  

“I didn’t try and leave you!” Bilbo tried to push himself up but it only resulted in his once again being pressed hard onto Thorin’s chest. He would be bruised in the morning.

“You fled from my side and tried to escape me on that horse. I shall find him and devour him for his impudence!”

Bilbo fervently hoped Asfaloth would return to the Blue Mountains. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he really didn’t like it.  Thorin-and he really hated thinking of this dragon as Thorin-roared over his head. At least he knew that if he asked the dragon would let him breath. That was comforting.

“I wanted to lead you to your treasure, My Great King.” Bilbo whispered into Thorin’s chest. He remembered reading stories of dragons and that it was always wise to flatter them as much as possible.

“Lies!” Bilbo sucked in as much air as he could and pushed himself up just enough to fill his lungs.

“THORIN!” Bilbo bellowed. The dragon froze in surprise above him that Bilbo used to his advantage. “I don’t know what’s left of you inside there but _I did not leave you_. I rode away to get you to the castle with as few casualties as possible. I wanted to make sure that you would find me so I told your nephew to let you know where I was going. I would hardly be that stupid if I didn’t want to find you, âzyung.”

Thorin rolled over abruptly and dropped Bilbo onto the gold. So much gold. It was at least twice the size of the treasure trove in the Blue Mountains. He brought his tail around and tucked Bilbo in close to his chest with a wing.

“You will not leave me.” The words were dark with promise and Bilbo wasn’t sure if he managed to get through or not. Still, the embrace was no longer painful and the claw on his chest was more carressing than pressing now. Thorin’s head bent beside his and the breath no longer felt quite so much like fire. “Do not leave me.”

Bilbo knew what to do with the insecurity in the voice now. He wrapped as much of his arms around the paw in front of him and held on.

 

 

 

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

When Bilbo woke up the next morning it was on a soft bed with someone poking at his back. He whined in complaint before trying to sit up in surprise.

“Where-”

“Lay down, laddie.” A firm hand pushed him down and Bofur appeared in his vision, a worried frown marring his usually cheerful face. Óin continued to work on whatever wounds he had.

“Are you alright, Bilbo?”

“I-I think so? Where’s Thorin?” Bofur relaxed slightly and sat on the floor beside the bed Bilbo was lying on. He didn’t recognize the room he was in.

“He’s being tended to by Balin and Dwalin. He has to be ready for the ceremony in an hours time.”

“To be fair, the lad does as well.”  Óin stated from Bilbo’s back. Bilbo winced as he poured something cold on a particularly painful bruise.

“Yes but he already has his clothes picked out by Dori.”

“What’s going on?” Bofur focused on Bilbo immediately and smiled apologetically.

“Thorin is being named heir apparent and crowned king in an hours time. You’ll be attending the ceremony as his intended.”

“How did I get here? I was with Thor-”

“We came and got you as soon as the sun rose. Balin and Dwalin took the Prince to his chambers while we took you to these.” Bofur paused and a hint of worry showed on his face. “Did anything happen? Are you alright?”

“I-everything was fine.” Bilbo put on the most convincing smile he could. “Did everyone escape okay? Fíli?”

“The princelings are safe. We all road to the falls and were about halfway there when the change happened.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“Actually, there was only one fire and the only casualty there was a field. No one died. Your plan worked very well.”

“There,” Óin declared with a pat to Bilbo’s back, “he’s all taken care of. You can get him dressed now.” Óin slipped off the bed and pocket the poultice he’d applied to Bilbo’s back. “Next time you see a dragon, wear armor.” and with that unneeded bit of advice the elder dwarf left.

The door hadn’t even fully clicked shut before Bofur was speaking. “Why do you have so many bruises on your back?” He demanded. “You weren’t hurt in the least last time.”

“The ride was rougher than I anticipated.” Bilbo lied easily. “I fell off when we reached the treasure room and Thorin accidently knocked me into the very much locked door.” He pushed himself upright and rolled his shoulders back. They were a little stiff but far less sore than they had been mere minutes ago. Whatever Óin used on it was worth keeping around. “Do we know why he changed?”

Bofur’s frown was serious and dark. “It wasn’t anyone in Erebor. We sent ravens to the Blue Mountains but it will be a while before we hear their reply."

Bilbo nodded his head and climbed off the bed. “Come on now. I have to get in those horribly complicated clothes, my hair needs to be fixed in whatever the proper braids are and we need to allot enough times to get lost at least twice.”

Bofur chuckled, which was what Bilbo had been aiming for, and went for the wardrobe. “Don’t worry about getting lost. Fíli and Kíli are escorting you to the ceremony.”

“Me?” Bilbo frowned as he pulled off the silk sleep shirt. “Won’t you be coming too?”

“I imagine so. The entire company’s been invited, and I’ll need to be present if you need any servicing.”

“I will never understand,” Bilbo started as he pulled on the simple tunic that would be underneath all the other finery, “how you manage to make everything you say sound so terribly dirty.”

“It’s a talent.” Bofur agreed as he pulled out the intricate weskit and began to fasten it’s many buckles. Bilbo had always imagined this would be the hardest part of living in a royal court to get used to, but it was actually surprisingly easy. He helped with everything he put on, and most of the items he couldn’t don by himself.

They got Bilbo dressed as quickly as possible, Bofur was already dressed in his ridiculous, billowy, servant robes which Bilbo proudly did not laugh at. He rehearsed the lines he would be expected to say to Thorin nervously, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables while Bofur fixed his hair in a ridiculous number of complex braids. Bofur barely finished putting the last bead in his hair-he had five now, all the same silvery color as Thorin’s with various runes inscribed on them-when the door opened.

“Fíli and Kíli at your service!”

And they were off.

 

 

 

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

As the only non-dwarf at the ceremony, Bilbo was the only one that didn’t have to have a sip of whatever concoction Óin had made for them not to catch Thrór’s illness. The Mountain King was drawn and pale, nothing like the strong presence that Bilbo had met his first night in the Blue Mountains. His voice was harsh and dry and made Bilbo want to wince just to hear it. He sat on his throne with a ornate sword and a infinitely tired expression.

The dwarves all huddled around outside the throne room before the ceremony started and Bilbo finally got to see Thorin.

Thorin was magnificent. He was dressed in midnight blue with diamonds embroidered in complex geometric patterns. He also had a thick surcoat of leather and fur and wool that draped over his shoulders and made his heavily braided hair look darker. Bilbo could recognize three of the braids-there was a braid of Durin, a braid that showed his royalty, and the courtship braid that still had the flowers Bilbo had braided in the previous morning. He wasn’t sure what had happened the previous evening with the dragon, or where he stood with Thorin, or how he even felt about the whole affair, but it did reassure him to see the braid and the flowers.

“Bilbo,” Thorin murmured the moment he saw the Hobbit. He forced his way through the crowd of dwarves (with a little help from Dwalin) and embraced Bilbo in a much more comfortable warmth than last night. “Ghivashel, I missed you this morning. I woke and you were nowhere to be found. I was told you had ridden away to make me chase you?”

Bilbo was glad he was being hugged because the shock that showed on his face would have given the entire evening away. He’d had no idea, never even expected-Thorin didn’t remember. It had never occurred to Bilbo that Thorin might not remember his time as a dragon. Though it should have, he’d spoken about his first time as a dragon as though he had no memory of the occurrence.

Now Bilbo really didn’t know what to do with the previous night.

Thorin tightened his hold and Bilbo let out a whimper of pain before he could control his mouth. Thorin instantly pushed Bilbo back and peered down at him with a frantic light in his eyes. “You are hurt?”

“I’m fine, Thorin. Just a bit of bruising from the ride. You’re going to be magnificent.” Bilbo caught sight of Balin who was making some sort of motion that meant nothing to Bilbo. “I think Balin needs your attention.”

Thorin frowned and let his eyes rake over Bilbo untrustingly. He clearly didn’t buy Bilbo’s story but there wasn’t a lot of choice right now. He had a coronation to attend. The large stone doors swung open and Thorin squared his shoulders. Balin whispered something to him and the dwarf prince gave his head a short nod. He lead the way into the throne room and Bilbo followed behind Fíli and  Kíli. The dwarf king did not rise until Thorin was kneeling in front of him.

Thrór spoke the words that would make Thorin the heir and king very quietly in khuzdul. Bilbo only recognized a few words but he knew enough to know that Thrór was making the ceremony far more personal than would be custom. He touched the sword to Thorin’s shoulders where the dwarf was kneeling in front of him and rumbled something deep in khuzdul and Balin walked forward with the crown.

It was a hefty thing that looked like a mix between a helmet and a crown. It was a thick band with geometric shapes that dropped down around the sides of the face. The band was mostly gold, with green detailing. There were jewels embedded in it’s surface and they spelled out something in ancient runes.

Balin handed the crown to Thrór and stepped back with a slight brush of his hand against Thorin’s shoulder.

Thrór’s voice grew loud as he continued to speak in khuzdul. Thorin replied, his voice strong and certain, and the crown was lowered on top of his head. Thorin didn’t sink under the obvious weight, and a moment later he rose. Thrór whispered something and grasped Thorin’s shoulder with a soft smile before sinking down the steps to the smaller Throne on the right. Thorin remained still for a moment before turning around and facing the crowd. Thunderous applause immediately filled the hall that Thorin stopped with a raised hand after a few moments.

“Fíli, sisters son, come forth.” Fíli went forward, wearing dark green and shining emeralds, and knelt in front of Thorin. Thorin made him his heir, and Fíli swore fealty to him in return. Kíli, and Dís swore their fealty as well and Bilbo felt Bofur push him forward after the dwarf lady stepped back.

“You’re next as the future consort.”

Bilbo swallowed and squared his shoulders. He ignored the eyes all resting heavily on him and focused on walking up to the throne with slow steps. Thorin seemed more noble, and grand, and majestic than he had ever before, and Bilbo could hardly bear to look at him. He seemed so far removed from Bilbo, so much more than he could ever hope to be. He didn’t feel worthy to be in the same room as him, let alone his consort.

Bilbo sucked in a breath and knelt down before Thorin. He was suddenly very grateful he didn’t have to look Thorin in the eyes. He’d never be able to keep his focus on the hard syllables he was about to speak. “I Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins, do hereby swear fealty and service to Thorin, King Under the Mountain. In peace or war. In living or dying. From this minute henceforth, until death take me. I also offer him my heart, as my intended.” The khuzdul flowed as smoothly as it could, and Bilbo made a note to thank Balin, Ori and Bofur for helping him so much with it.

Thorin bowed his head and answered in the language of the Shire. Bilbo hadn’t heard it since his first night with Thorin and it made something deep in his chest ache in longing.

“And I shall never forget it. I hereby accept your fealty and vow to reward that which is given. Fealty with love, valor with honor, and your heart with my own.”

The pain Bilbo’s chest lessened.

 

 

 

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

The banquet afterwards wasn’t really like anything Bilbo had ever attended. There wasn’t a table to eat at for one thing. They were all standing and the food was flying around again. Everyone was talking and there was dancing and laughter rising up from everywhere.

Bilbo hadn’t seen Thorin since the coronation. He’d gotten one more embrace and then his King had been dragged into the festivities and Bilbo was left with Fíli, Kíli and Bofur.

Dwarf children were running everywhere and it was obvious that some of the older, stodgier members of the court were getting annoyed at them underfoot. Bilbo had no idea why they were invited if they were going to be treated like they were annoying. It was clear that it was time for some Hobbit intervention. If there was one thing all Hobbits were accustomed to, it was entertaining children while others enjoyed the evening. They tended to take it in rounds, as children were loved by all.

“Well, if you’re all bored then why not sit down and listen to a story?” Bofur hid a smile behind his pipe and Bilbo had a momentary feeling that he might have just bit off more than he could chew. The dwarflings all surrounded him excitedly and sat down in a semi-circle within seconds. Bilbo regarded them for a moment before shrugging and sitting down on the floor in front of them.

“Very well, everyone ready?” A general nod of agreement and Bilbo started. “In the olden times when wishing still helped and fairies flew freely across the flowered plains there was a dwarf-lad that went by the name of Bingo.”

“What kind of a name is Bingo?” A ginger dwarf asked before he was shushed by his brother.

“A perfectly respectable name.”  He shuffled in his seat before continuing. This was one of Frodo and Merry’s favorite stories. It even made Pippin sit still for a few minutes. Of course, he typically used a Hobbit instead of a dwarf in those tales. “Anyway, Bingo was the apprentice of a grouchy old carpenter.” Bilbo pinched his face and put on his best scowl. “‘Shave the wood!’ He’d always bark and then he’d send Bingo into the woods to fetch more wood.” The dwarves made sympathetic sounds and Bilbo was forcibly reminded of the differences between Hobbits and Dwarves. Hobbits always got excited about the prospect of exploring the woods while Dwarves clearly felt sorry for the lad.

“Bingo went into the woods with his big boots on and his little red cape. He didn’t know the stories told about the woods, or the fact that something big lived in a cave deep inside.” Fíli and Kíli moved behind Bofur and drank at their goblets, staring in amusement at all the captivated dwarflings. “The woods were dark and the trees talls but Bingo paid no heed. He had wood to collect and a job to finish. Deeper and deeper into the woods he went till he came to a little clearing. There was a large seat of stone and a pile of bones to its side. ‘Pray what is that?’ Bingo asked before trodding on. As quick as a bee the ground began to shake and Bingo heard a rumbling laugh.

‘Fee-fi-fo-fun! I smell the blood of a dwarf son!’ At the deep bellowing sound of the Troll voice Bingo ran behind the stone throne and ducked to hide. The great rumblings steps-for that was what they were-came to a stop in front of the throne and great huffs of air blew over the back of it, nearly knocking Bingo’s hat off his head.” It was adorable, really, the way Fíli and Kíli tried to act like they weren’t listening with rapt attention to the story Bilbo was telling the little dwarflings. He kept talking, using his hands to describe the scenes and relishing in the different voices he could do. He loved telling tales and making up bits of rhymes and verses. It was something he considered himself to be quite gifted at as well.

“But just when he thought his dinner was caught he looked down and found that his hands held naught. Bingo had dashed under his large legs. Then, he decided to learn the Troll just why dwarves were not to be trifled with. He drew back his leg and gave him a bump on the boot of his seat.” The dwarves gasped in worry and Bilbo bit back a grin. He loved the expressions of children. “Now trolls have flesh as hard as stone, but Bingo was wearing his big boots. The troll let out a howl at the feel of the dwarvish metal right up his jacksie. Bingo shot back with a laugh and a shout and taught the troll his lesson.”

“Bingo took the wood back to his master and gave him a kick the next time he shouted ‘Shave the wood!’ And, as Hobbits say, ‘snip snap snout, this tale’s told out!”

The chorus of dismayed ‘awws!’ flattered Bilbo far more than it probably should have. Cries of ‘tell another one’ and ‘you can’t just _stop_ ’ made him laugh.

“And what would you hear?” Bilbo asked the crowd of dwarflings He noted that Fíli and Kíli had both sat down beside Bofur with equally excited expressions.

“Tell us of one of your adventures!” The ginger dwarf who had thought Bingo a weird name shouted.

“You don’t want to hear-”

“We do!” Bilbo considered for a moment and figured why not. He had the childrens attention and he could make the tale far more exciting than it really was. And if his telling a story made the members of the court more agreeable, Bilbo would talk all night. If he couldn’t see Thorin he’d make his night easier at least. That had to be one of the chief duties of a Consort, right?

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you my story, though it isn’t yet finished.” Ori appeared behind Bofur with his usual notebook out. He sat down and began scribbling as Bilbo spoke, much to the halflings amusement.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the electricity went out at my house on Tuesday. I swear I never meant to leave you all with that cliff hanger! I hope this helps make up for it. :)


	14. Makes No Difference Where You Are

  
_Fate is kind_   
_She brings to those who love_   
_The sweet fulfillment of_   
_Their secret longing_   
_Like a bolt out of the blue  
Fate steps in and sees you through_   


_-When You Wish Upon A Star (Pinocchio)_

* * *

_  
_  


 

Bilbo didn’t stop telling stories until Dís came and retrieved him. Ori took over the entertaining and Dwalin joined the circle beside Kíli to Bilbo’s utter delight.

“It’s time my brother was allowed to see his intended. He’s had to spend too much time surrounded by dwarves who have forgotten how to smile.” she handed a goblet to Bilbo. “Bring him this. It’s traditional for the royal intended to present the king with a drink to prove that they will care for them. Or something like that.” She waved her hand through the air dismissively before pushing Bilbo forward. He stumbled but managed to keep the dark amber liquid in the glass. Thorin had his back to him, but Fíli, who had been forced by his uncle to join in the ‘fun’ caught his eye and grinned wolfishly.

Bilbo came beside the King and dropped his eyes to the ground before holding the cup up in offering. “My Lord.” Warm hands encased his and removed the goblet far more slowly than was necessary, drawing out the contact and making Bilbo’s pulse do wild things.

He kept his eyes downcast unsure of what he was supposed to do now. His hands felt very empty. He waited another moment before taking a step back.

“Fíli, escort Lord Braon to the halls of records? I wish to discuss a few matters of estate with my intended.” A warm hand grasped his and Bilbo suddenly found himself being led away. Thorin didn’t say anything as he hurried them out of the banquet hall and down a corridor. He grinned widely at Bilbo and then pushed open a wide stone door. Bilbo’s breath left in a startled gasp and he walked forward with wide eyes.

Erebor had a _beautiful_ garden. There were trees a plenty. They lined the outer edges of the garden and there were a few nearer the center. There was one stump beside what looked like a firepit and Bilbo wondered at what it had been used for.

He wandered around it aimlessly, taking in all the beauty and wondering why it was so large. Bilbo didn’t think it was because the dwarves liked plants, though a few did, but more because they were not going to be outdone on any grounds, and that included gardening.

He also found it endlessly amusing that the dwarves had this nice of a garden. He’d been allowed to maintain the garden in the Blue Mountains almost exclusively. While the dwarves were rough, they were excellent diggers. The only problem was they had a very hard time stopping when they started to dig. Bilbo always had to tug a dwarf away from a hole they were working on. It made them excellent shrub planters but terrible with flowers.

There were some hydrangeas in the back that were in need of tending and Bilbo, heedless of the court clothes went to them immediately. He kneeled down and would have gotten started right there if he wasn’t distracted by a deep laugh.

“My dear hobbit,” Thorin clapped his back and Bilbo winced, jerking away from the painful contact. Thorin instantly dropped to his knees beside Bilbo and tugged his coat off. He paused with his hands on the surcoat and looked at the door. “Shomakhûnh! Sûkh u Meden!” (Guard, watch the door!)  A clatter sounded by the entrance and the door to the garden shut. Bilbo hadn’t even realized they’d had a guard with them. Thorin returned his hands to Bilbo and removed the surcoat and weskit. Bilbo remained still and kept his eyes down. He’d have a hard time explaining this. The tunic was tugged up in one of Thorin’s large hands and then Thorin let out a ragged, pained breath. The tunic was dropped and Thorin stood up before taking a few stumbling steps back. He looked around in horror before sinking down onto the stump. Bilbo sighed and pulled back on his weskit, not bothering to fix the ridiculous numbers of fastenings on it.

“Thorin, it-you…”

“I have harmed you. Ghivashel-how can you bare to look at me?” Thorin’s voice broke and he ducked his head, burying his face in his hands.

“Thorin!” Bilbo knelt in front of Thorin and forced his dwarf to look him in the eye. “ _You_ were not responsible for those bruises. That curse was. You stopped pressing me the moment I asked. That was my Thorin, not the dragon that threatened to lock me up.”

Thorin gaped rather like a fish at that bit. “I-what? I threatened to lock you up?”

Bilbo nodded. “You were rather afraid I would wander off it seemed.” He smiled softly and stroked Thorin’s beard. “It was quite flattering, actually.” He paused momentarily and decided the truth would be his alley at the moment. “I won’t say I wasn’t frightened, but I was okay. You rested your claw on my back in an attempt to cuddle. You told me not to leave you and said you’d chain me by your side. I explained why I wasn’t leaving you and you loosened your grip."

“It was beneath me-in any form.” Thorin pushed Bilbo away until he was sitting in front of him. Thorin fidgeted on the stump for a moment before speaking again.

And he didn’t stop. He talked about respect, and how Bilbo should always feel as if he were the most important thing in the kingdom and that he had freedom to do whatever he wanted. About honor and how dwarves were to act around others including not taking advantage of the weaker and never forcing themselves. He spoke about trust and courage and love and on and on till Bilbo forgot what time it was and marveled at how utterly uncomfortable a rock could be to sit on.

“And I would never want you to think you weren’t safe here. I have never been so ashamed of myself in all my life and I can only hope that you will allow me to remain a friend. I know I have no right to ask such and no right to hope for it but-” Bilbo suddenly understood what Thorin was trying to do and he couldn’t believe that the dwarf could be so utterly inept in the field that he had taken this long for Bilbo to even understand what he was doing.

“Wait,” Bilbo held up his hand, a grin starting to form on his lips no matter how hard he fought it down. Thorin continued to look miserable, “are you trying to apologize?”

“I had thought my intent clear.” Thorin replied. Bilbo stared for a disbelieving moment and then he giggled. A high, light sound that drifted through the air and shattered the horrible tension and anger that had been around them. Bilbo giggled again and he began to shake with the force of his mirth.

“I have never,” Bilbo laughed, falling off the rock he’d seated himself on, “seen anyone who could sit on a _stump_ as if it were a throne and then proceed to talk for _forty minutes_ about honor in an attempt to apologize.” Bilbo managed to catch his breath and pushed himself back up. His eyes were bright in the moon light and they took Thorin in with unconcealed adoration. By Mahal, he would do anything for his crazy dwarf. He loved him more than ever and kind of imagined that he would feel that way till he died.

“It was an attempt to make amends.” Thorin grumbled, clearly embarrassed as he averted his eyes. Bilbo instantly missed their gaze. The star light was reflected in them and Bilbo fancied that Varda herself was shining through them. “And I cannot help how I sit. It is a precarious perch.”

“And one you pull off with enviable grace.” Bilbo answered. He got on his knees and inched over to Thorin, who was still avoiding his eyes, and placed his hands on his dwarf’s impressive thighs. “Thorin, you utter oaf. To make amends you only had to look at me.” Bilbo took Thorin’s braid in nimble fingers and undid it gently. He put a finger over Thorin’s lip and handed him the bead that clasped the braid shut. “Wait right here, my King.” He ran around the garden quickly, gathering the flowers he needed before returning to the sullen King’s side.

“I was deprived the honor and pleasure of braiding your hair this morning. So if it’s quite alright with you, I’d like to do it now.” Thorin nodded his head slowly and unsure. Bilbo smiled softly and took the first bloom up. As he wove it into the soft hair he explained its significance. “This is an Arbutus, in the Shire it means ‘you’re the only one I love.’ I give it to you Thorin, and no others. I have never given a flower to any other person in my life but my mother.”

He grabbed the next flower, noting that Thorin’s eyes had widened with a smug feeling. “This is Amaranth. It’s rather hard to weave with, but important for flower crowns. It means ‘immortal love.’ I never thought I’d have that, and then I met you.” Bilbo stroke the bloom with a gentle finger and caught Thorin’s eyes with his own. The pain in them hurt Bilbo and he made a vow to never let himself get hurt by the dragon form again. “I was so lonely before I had you. I had very few friends, and spent my days caring for Frodo. I love my cousin but I had no one I could really talk to.” Bilbo gave his head a little shake and took the next pink bloom. He held it up so Thorin could smell it.

“This is an Aster, and it is always used at the base of our crowns. Unfortunately, it won’t work at the base of your braid as it’s too delicate. I agree with the sentiment though. Without it relationships fail. It means ‘trusting love.’ I trust you Thorin, last night didn’t change that. Did I mention that you released me when I asked? A dragon in the midst of gold lust listened to what I asked.”

“Why are you-”

“Hush,” Bilbo grabbed the last flower. “I’m not finished yet. This you should recognize, I braided your hair with them while we were on our way here but I didn’t tell you it’s meaning.” Bilbo inhaled the sweet scent of the flower before securing it into Thorin’s braid. “This, as you know, is a primrose. It means ‘eternal love.’ It’s a variation of the immortal love, but more significant. Immortal love is love that won’t die, but eternal love is love that won’t diminish.”

“But I-” Bilbo placed his finger over Thorin’s lips and was grateful he’d taken the time to wipe off his hands.

“But nothing. That form was not you. I frightened the dwarf you very badly, and your dragon took over in that fear. You never hurt me deliberately and you didn’t violate me. I think you just tried to douse me in your sent.” Bilbo wrinkled his nose at the remembered sensation. “Which was horribly sticky, but terribly flattering at the same time.” Bilbo leaned up further, glad that Thorin was meeting his eyes, even if there was a good deal of pain still in their depths. “I’ve forgiven you, Thorin.” Thorin tugged Bilbo closer and the hobbit tangled his fingers in Thorin’s hair beside the newly made braid and laid his head against the dwarves chest. The steady thumping of his heart was immensely comforting.

“How did I find you?” Thorin mumbled into Bilbo’s head.

“With great difficulty.” Bilbo replied wryly and he was rewarded with a unguarded laugh from Thorin.

“Did I tell you that I thought you lovely from the moment I first saw you, and I thought your voice closer to music than any I had ever heard?”

“No, and I think mead may have clouded your hearing, âzyung.”  Bilbo murmured, embarrassed.

Thorin smiled and petted Bilbo’s hair. “Perhaps, though I still find your voice to be the most pleasing sound. You had me so enraptured with your stories earlier that I missed nearly all that Lord Olaf said.”

“Bingo? You heard my silly tale?”

“Indeed. I have a feeling you will have many a dwarfling ask you for more tales. They were very well told. Fíli and Kíli were even enraptured.” Bilbo tucked his face into Thorin’s clothes, horribly embarrassed. “Fíli was very unhappy with me when I made him join me in speaking with court members.”

Bilbo leaned back so he could see his dwarf more clearly. “Thorin-” the King leaned back as well so he could see Bilbo, but he leaned too far and suddenly Bilbo found himself and Thorin falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs with yelps of surprise. Thorin cushioned his fall and Bilbo knocked the air out of the dwarf with a whoosh. They were utterly silent for a moment before Thorin thoroughly shocked Bilbo with a quiet laugh. “I told you it was a precarious perch, Ghivashel.”

The door to the garden flew open and three dwarves stormed in to find Bilbo laughing carefree on the new King who had flowers strewn about him and a smile on his face.

“Nothing to see here.” Dwalin huffed. He led the guards away and winked at his new king. Bilbo just snuggled closer to Thorin and enjoyed the sound of his laughter.

-[]-[o]-[]-

There was a skylight in Thorin’s room. It was a far grander room than the one the Prince had had in the Blue Mountains, but the skylight was all that Bilbo could focus on. He could see a few sparkling stars, and the light from the moon filled the room with cool light. He quickly went to the pool of light in the center of the room and cupped his hands in it, letting the light dance across his skin and a smile lift his lips.

The door shut quietly behind him as Thorin entered. He came up behind Bilbo and placed his large hands on Bilbo’s hips. “I sent a raven to Erebor the day we left the Blue Mountains asking that they install a sunlight in the royal chambers. You were growing pale in the mountains and I would not hide you from the sun again, Ghivashel.”

Bilbo, his heart a wild, fluttering thing, turned in Thorin’s arms and wrapped his own around the king as tightly as he could. He could squeeze Thorin with all his might and it would never hurt the sturdy dwarf. They stayed in the embrace for several long moments until Bilbo finally pulled back. Balin had told him earlier that it was tradition for the king’s mate-whatever stage of courtship they were in-to undress him their first night after the coronation. It had something to do with the consort being the only person who could rid the king of his rank, as the consort was the only one equal to the king. Bilbo thought it was a beautiful tradition.

He removed Thorin’s coat first, carelessly letting it fall to the floor after he removed the intricate clasp. Thorin’s eyes were heavy on him and it made the undressing feel strangely ritualistic.

Without the crown or the crest, Thorin should have seemed mortal again, the same Thorin Bilbo had learned and watched many mornings and nights. Somehow, stripped of the links to his title save for the beads and braids he wore, Thorin seemed entirely new. The powerful, capable king with the dwarf he loved underneath. The nobility in his stance, the knowledge in his eyes, they both seemed far more overwhelming than ever before and Bilbo wondered how anyone could ever look at Thorin and not know him to be a king.

He ran both his hands over Thorin’s shoulders when he finally freed them of the final tunic and let their warmth seep into his fingers. He’d been pleasured by Thorin’s explorations many times over, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to thoroughly explore his lover yet. Taking Thorin’s clothes off himself left Bilbo nearly trembling at the enormity of the task. He was allowed to do it. Thorin welcomed his touch and love.

He lifted his gaze once he had his king completely unclothed in front of him and met Thorin’s gaze.  His eyes were hooded and his mouth open in a tiny gasp. He reached out and took Bilbo’s hand before whispering in a need-broken voice. “Marry me?”

Bilbo’s mind stumbled over the quiet words and made his breathing stutter. “Aren’t we working towards that?” He finally asked in what he hoped was a coy manner. Thorin nodded with a laugh and grasped Bilbo’s hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Yes, men Ghivashel. That is what we are working towards. I simply wish to set the date.” That made Bilbo feel utterly weightless and lightheaded.

“When can we?” He spoke the words utterly breathlessly and Thorin’s eyes glittered in the starlight.

“A month times would be the soonest.”

“The 21st?” Bilbo hummed and trailed a finger down Thorin’s bare chest. He received a nod in answer and his lips lifted up in a pleased smile. A month, he could handle that. The rest of his friends would be at Erebor then. “Yes, my king.”

“My consort,” Thorin hummed and then Bilbo was being lifted into the air and spun around as if he weighed nothing more than a hobbitling. He laughed in surprise and delight and Thorin held him all the tighter. “Men, menu ezbad, men Bilbo!” (Mine, my consort, my Bilbo!) He nearly sang the words and Bilbo shook with ecstasy.

“Ghivashel,” Thorin set Bilbo down and looked at him with unguarded affection.

“Åzyung.” The dwarf king kissed Bilbo again and the hobbit wondered absently if anything else would ever matter again. Anything that wasn’t Thorin’s hands and mouth, the feeling of being pressed together, innocent or passionate.

He didn’t really think it would, and even that didn’t matter.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Now that there was a date for the wedding Bilbo was beginning to feel extremely pressured to cure the confounded curse. Any free time he had between court duties, consort lessons, and general work, he was in the library with Ori and Bofur. Today they’d managed to drag Fíli , Kíli, Dori, Dwalin Óin and Thorin with them.

Bilbo was going to find the cure to this forsaken curse if it was the last thing he did.

He loved reading and would never complain about having to do it in western or the language of the Shire, but he didn’t have such luck. Khuzdul was all that the curse books came in and translating was not something he enjoyed. It took him over an hour to read a single page.

And they hadn’t learned anything new.

Bilbo flipped open his notebook and peered at the paper that he’d written all they’d learned about the curse on.

_Cursed gem= Arkenstone. Set in the heart of the mountain and drove the wielder to madness._

_Thorin accepted a curse (transfer?) and the Arkenstone disappeared. Where did it go? Why did it go?_

_The wizard told him a Hobbit, his One, would free him. I’m that Hobbit. ?_

_There is a long tricky process for transferring curses. It requires a sacrifice of some sort. Thorin sacrificed himself and accepted the curse._

It was pathetic to look at.

Thorin’s arm draped over his shoulder and tugged him closer to the dwarf’s barrel chest. “You are frowning entirely too much for me, Bilbo.”

Bilbo rested his head on Thorin’s chest and closed his eyes. He could hear the steady beating of Thorin’s heart and the sound soothed away his stress. “I think the khuzdul is getting more confusing the longer I look at it.”

“At least you’re not reading Elvish.” Ori huffed from the other side of the table. He was sitting beside Dwalin. The warrior was holding his hand and it was one of the sweetest things Bilbo had ever seen. His hand completely engulfed Ori’s but he held it so tenderly, as if it would break at the slightest pressure and he valued it more than any jewel. He would have ‘awwed’ if he didn’t think Bofur would mercilessly tease them.

“Elvish? There are elvish books? I can read Quenya and Sindarin fluently.” Thorin tensed at his side and Bilbo nearly smiled. He forgot how utterly much Dwarves hated Elves. “My mother taught me because the only adventure books found in the Shire were written in that language.”

Ori passed the book over with a gleeful grin. “Then please, take this. I can read basic Quenya but it takes forever and gives me such a headache.”

Bilbo took the book and snuggled back into Thorin’s arms. He could feel the dwarf glaring at the elvish letters but Bilbo didn’t care. This was something he could actually _read._

Thorin clutched Bilbo tighter and nuzzled his cheek against his curls. Bilbo was fairly certain he was trying to distract Bilbo from the book which was far too funny to think about without laughing. Ori had already translated most of the book. He’d need another one...

“How do you always manage to smell of tea? I never even see you drink it.” Thorin asked quietly as he nosed at Bilbo’s hair. The halfling chuckled and flipped to the last page of his book.

“I always have a cuppa for breakfast, lunch, and, of course, afternoon tea. You can’t be a proper Hobbit if you don’t have at least three cups of tea a day.” He glanced over the words, frowning when they mentioned the creating of a curse. It would be addressed in the next volume. “Ori? Where are these books? This is part of a series.”

“Three columns down to the right, and then two rows back.” Ori answered without looking up. “fifth shelf.”

“I’m going to grab a few more.” Bilbo declared and shut his book. He pushed himself up, gave Thorin a quick peck on the cheek and went back to the aisles on magic. He let his fingers trail over the spines until he found what he wanted. He plucked the green bound book off the shelf and placed it in the crook of his arm when he had the uncomfortable sensation he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder but the company were all still sitting. Balin had joined them, and none of the dwarves were even looking at him. The record keepers were nowhere to be seen either.

Deciding he had just imagined the feeling Bilbo turned back to the elvish books, only to squeak in fright. Pale blue eyes stared at him from where he had just removed a book.

It wasn’t a dwarf.

He was an elderly man with a large staff and grey robes. He stared at Bilbo for a long, terrifying moment before he stepped away. He shuffled down the aisle next to Bilbo until he turned the corner and made his way towards Bilbo with a stern expression. He had a large silver scarf draped over his shoulders and a long, full, grey beard. Bilbo had no idea what to make of the person. The only thing that kept him from running in fright was that Thorin was mere feet away and would be by his side if he gave even the tiniest of shouts.

“Bilbo Baggins.” The man’s voice was low and gruff. It sounded like he’d had a few too many smokes in his lifetime. “Just the Hobbit I’ve been looking for. You are remarkably hard to find.”

Despite the lack of any negative feeling Bilbo decided that was a bit too creepy to be going on alone. “Thorin?” He called out as non threateningly and worriedly as he could. He heard a shuffle behind him and then the steady footfalls of his lover and King.

“Yes, Ghivash-Gandalf?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I totally stopped there. Mr. Gandalf has (finally) shown up so things can get interesting now ;D


	15. Nightmares are Real

 

  
_In the dark of the night evil will find him_  
 _In the dark of the night, terror comes true_  
 _My dear, heres a sign,  
Its the end of the line,_

_-In the Dark of the Night (Anastasia)_

* * *

_  
_

A strong hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Thorin stepped in front of him and regarded the old man with a frown. He crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. Bilbo had no idea who ‘Gandalf’ was.

“I see you haven’t told the halfling who I am?” Gandalf chuckled and shook his head, causing his full beard to sway.

“I’m sorry, should I know you?” Bilbo asked, peering around Thorin.

“I am Gandalf. And Gandalf is me.”

Bilbo had no idea what to do with that name. The elder declared it in a way that made it obvious he thought himself well known and the other dwarves were now staring at Bilbo, Thorin, and the man with various gaping expressions. Bilbo was once again missing something.  Still, he was a Baggins, and if there was one thing Baggins’ were good at, it was being polite.

“I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember hearing about you.”

“Because you haven’t been told who I am.” Gandalf shook his head again and Thorin finally snapped out of whatever surprised daze he’d been caught in.

“This is Gandalf.” He said, stepping aside enough so that Bilbo could see the elder but not enough that Thorin couldn’t bodily block him with a single movement. “He is the wizard that assisted me in freeing my grandfather from the curse.”

Bilbo took a moment to cover from that surprising revelation.

“You’re the wizard? It’s an honor to meet you.” Bilbo bowed in proper Hobbit fashion before clasping his hands together. “But-if you don’t mind me asking-why are you here now?”

“Because, on the day Thorin weds you he will be cured or the curse.”

Two weeks. They had two weeks until the wedding. Fourteen days, two hours and twenty or so minutes.

“How?”

“At great cost.” Was Gandalf’s ominous reply. Bilbo could have snorted. Of course it would be at great cost. Everything about the curse had been at great cost.

“Tell me all that you know.” Thorin demanded, a steely glint in his voice that made Bilbo pause. Gandalf lead the way to the other dwarves, all of whom had clearly been eavesdropping on the conversation. Balin looked grave and Dwalin looked mutinous. Bilbo took a seat between Thorin and Bofur and was a little worried by how quickly Thorin wrapped a protective arm around him. Gandalf slowly lowered himself into the chair and sighed in a long suffering manner.

“As I told you years ago, it was a Hobbit that would cure you.”

“Yes, very vaguely.” Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo. “I have found my hobbit and now would know what you mean by great cost? Do you know how he is to lift this curse?”

“I know a great many things, Master Dwarf, and I will not be rushed in the telling of any of them.”

“Then why are you here?” Dwalin huffed. Ori took his hand and tugged him back in the chair a bit. The dwarf barely relaxed at all.

“Because I have things to discuss with Bilbo.”

“I’m most eager to hear whatever you have to say. I’m ready to cure Thorin, whatever the cost.”

“No.” Thorin said very clearly before Gandalf could even open his mouth. “Not at any cost. I will not risk Bilbo’s wellbeing in this endeavor.” Gandalf’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Indeed?”

“On this I will brook no argument. As before, I will leave my well being in your hands.” Bilbo felt flattered and a little worried. Was that an actual concern?

“This will be harder to do than you think.” Gandalf pulled a pipe from his staff and lit it with his finger. “There are pieces to the puzzle that even I cannot yet see. I fear that there are more forces at work than we know.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked sitting up properly. “The curse or people?”

“Both. This is a curse that was never meant to be tampered with.”

“The Arkenstone, you know what it was.” Bilbo didn’t ask a question. He stated a fact. Gandalf raised his head and considered him for a long moment before nodding.

“Yes I do, though none will like the answer.” Bilbo sat back with a frown.

“That hardly matters when we have to know it.”

Gandalf’s grin was quick and large, and wholly unexpected. “You have chosen well, Thorin Thrainson. I like this Hobbit.” He blew out a puff of smoke that turned into runes in the sky. They were elvish, and the sound Thorin made at the site of them would have been funny in any other circumstance. As it was, Bilbo recognized what the tengwar spelt out.

_Danger._

He didn’t quite know what to make of that. “The Arkenstone is a relic from the First Age. One that would have been far better left undiscovered-” he ignored Kíli’s ‘obviously’ and continued unperturbed. “It was made by a High elf-” Here Thorin made a disbelieving choking sound- “and corrupted by a being of unspeakable evil. He put a curse on the jewel so that the original owner could not reclaim it without great turmoil. It was cast into the heart of the mountain. That is where it was found by your kin.”

It was amazing how much Gandalf could say without actually saying anything at all. Ori was frantically writing everything down. Fíli and Kíli looked utterly unamused. Balin and Oin looked thoughtful. Bofur and Dwalin untrusting. Bilbo couldn’t see Thorin’s face, but he could feel the tension in his hold. He grasped the hand not draped over his shoulder in his own and tangled their fingers together.

“I’ve received another prophecy for you, what it means I do not know, though I can guess.” The wizard sat up in his seat and his pale eyes darkened. He opened his mouth and a voice that seemed to come from the earth itself echoed around the library with serious intent.

**Howling ghost will reappear,**

**In a mountain that is stacked with fear,**

**For the king and his Lionheart.**

**The crown lit up reveals the way ahead,**

**Pass the stars of seven, long since dead.**

**The Heart will grasp the golden band,**

**And pass by holding fire’s hand.**

**Pierced by stone that will not bend,**

**Returned to home the curse will end.**

“Can you not speak plainly?! What use is another cryptic verse?”

“Durin’s symbol?” Ori asked and Bilbo watched him scribble the ‘prophecy’ frantically down.

“I am tired of-what?” Thorin cut himself off midrant and Bilbo felt extremely impressed by Ori. The dwarf blushed slightly and fidgeted with his quill.

“The crown lit up as the way revealed ahead, Pass the stars of seven long since dead. A crown and seven stars. The line of Durins symbol.”

“King and Lionheart are clearly referencing you and Bilbo as well, my King.” Balin added.

“I hardly think Lionheart is a reference to me.” Bilbo objected.

“Hush.” Fíli ordered. “You’ve spent the night with a dragon twice. You ran away with the intent of having a dragon chase you. Lionheart.”

“What about that last bit?” Óin asked, rather too loudly. “Pass by holding fire’s hand? Sounds bad.”

“Well, it all depends on pass, doesn’t it?” Bofur said around puffs of his pipe. “Fire’s hand sounds like Thorin on his bad nights. Pass might just mean the curse leaves.”

“It has to be bad. The whole ‘at great cost’ thing.” Dwalin growled with a glare at Gandalf.

“Well we know it’ll happen with you two on your wedding day.” Balin said decisively. “That will have to be where we start. Gandalf, how long will you be staying.”

“I should think till the wedding. Now, if you excuse me, I have much to do and precious little time in which to do it.”

And with that the wizard got up and left the library, leaving a bunch of confused dwarves and a perplexed hobbit in his wake.

 

-[]-[o]-[]-

Something crinkling woke Bilbo up. He shot up in bed and looked around wildly only to realize he was quite alone. His shoulders relaxed and this slumped as he realized that meant Thorin was already in court and he would have to wait till supper to see him again. His hands dropped to the blanket and he heard the crinkle again. His eyes shot down to see what it was and he saw a barely covered slip of cream colored paper. It was the kind he wrote letters to Frodo on.

He picked it up curiously and stopped breathing after the first line in familiar script.

_My Ghivashel, my everything, my heart,_

Thorin had written him a letter. No-he’d written him a love letter. Bilbo curled back up under the blanket and hugged Thorin’s pillow to his chest-inhaling the wonderful scent-and unfolded the letter.

_It is tradition in my family to write a letter to our betrothed a week before the nuptials. I have never read the one my father wrote to my mother, nor my grandfather's to my grandmother, but I am told that they are to confess our love for our intended. I somehow cannot possibly say all that I wish in a letter as I should. I love you, Ghivashel, with all my heart and to know that you return that love has given me new life. Many a night I have lain awake thinking of the immeasurable joy that knowing you will be mine has brought me._

_I sit here watching you sleep and I can scarcely remember what it was like before I knew you. I was so lonely  I could hardly bear it. None other knew of my deep sorrow or my loneliness before you as I would not let them near enough to. I have kept my heart and mind safe for countless years with a sharp tongue and the distance ruling brings. But my dear Hobbit, I can't be clever or closed off with you: I find that I love you too much for that. Too deeply. You have no idea how closed off my heart has been. I have made a fine craft of being unknown to others, and yet you have broken down all my defenses with precious few words._

_And I cannot find it in my heart to care._

_Now I am reminded of that loneliness as I make to leave you for the days duties. Why must we endure this deep grief, what necessity is it?_

_Can everyone not already see that our love is persistent?  Can everyone not see that you are entirely mine, and I am entirely yours? Alas, though love has given my heart wings, duty will demand everything from me. I shall miss you till night more than any language of Middle Earth can describe. I shall dream of your embrace till I may return to your side and see your smile with my own eyes._

_I cannot explain the simple magic, but it seems that every time I wrap my arms around I find myself home. I find Erebor dull without your presence. The halls are plain and the finery unbecoming. They do not contain your beauty, my azyung.No jewel compares to your eyes, no colors are like the green-blue of your eyes._

_You have kindled what was a barely burning ember in my heart into a now glowing inferno. I love you. I don't know how I can love you so much and it has scared me more than once. I realize how much power it gives you, and how very vulnerable it makes me. You could shatter me into innumerable pieces with little effort if you so wished. Yet I trust you and so I am glad you have the power as there is no one else I would wish it on. Even now I know that were I to lose you I would never recover. Still, I will not-cannot-hold back. I will free fall into the depth of my love for you without a safety line and trust that you will catch me._

_I have still not found the words to describe what you mean to me, and I can only write a few more words as I am nearly out of ink. (Rather, you are almost out of ink as it is your writing box I am borrowing. Have Bofur fetch you some more) The only words I have are that I love you and would give my life up without a moments hesitation for you. You hold my heart and I feel safe with it in your hands._

_Till this evening, beloved._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Thorin_

Bilbo blinked at the letter in utter loss. He had never had someone speak to him so beautifully. Weren’t dwarves supposed to be callous and uncaring? Whoever had said so was clearly very wrong. There were no more poetic creatures in all of Middle Earth.

And he got to spend the rest of his life with this dwarf.

Bilbo’s fingers trailed over the words absently as he re read a few lines with a half wild smile. His eyes were a bit blurry but he hastily blinked away the tears. He needed to see Thorin and he had to wait till dinner? At least tomorrow they would get to spend a large quantity of the day together. It was when the feast/ball/whatever- khuzdul-Balin-had-said-at-him celebration for their wedding would be. He’d get to spend the night eating, and dancing with Thorin. He couldn’t think of anything more fun to do.

A terrified scream followed by a shout of “BILBO!” shook the hobbit out of his happy little bubble and made him jump in fright. He’d never heard Bofur sound like that. The door to Thorin’s and his bedchamber burst open and Bofur rushed in, followed by Ori and Bifur. They were all extremely pale and had their weapons out. Bofur had a large mattock, Bifur a boar spear, and Ori had a war axe that Bilbo was fairly certain belonged to Dwalin. Ori rushed to his side while Bofur immediately went for the wardrobe. Bifur jerked the bathroom door open and went in with a tangle of khuzdul curses.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked, his voice slightly squeaky. Ori pushed him back on the bed when he tried to rise.

“There was a note-” Ori glanced around frantically and didn’t make to explain anymore. Bilbo looked over at Bofur but the dwarf was simply pushing the clothes aside and hefting his mattock up as if he was about to club somebody over the head with it. Bifur emerged from the bathroom and shook his spear before he growled something in khuzdul. Bilbo only caught the words ‘Hobbit’ and ‘guards.’

“Yes,” Bofur replied, sticking his head back out of the wardrobe. “Go get Thorin and Dwalin as well.” Bilbo’s heart gave an excited little flip at the thought of seeing Thorin, but he was beginning to feel very frightened. Bofur stepped out of the wardrobe and thrust the sword Thorin had made for Bilbo at the Hobbit. Bifur ran off. “Take this and do. not. move.”

He went out of the room and Bilbo noticed there was something on the bedroom door for the first time. It was a piece of paper and it had been stabbed into the door with a dwarven dagger.

“Mahal!” Bilbo squeaked in surprise and brought his free hand to his mouth. He heard some sort of exclamation from the sitting room and then two princelings were rushing into the room and onto the bed beside Bilbo before he could even properly make out who they were.

“Bilbo,” Fíli positioned himself beside the hobbit while Kíli took Bilbo’s other side. They both pushed him back further on the bed so that his back was against the wall and they were completely blocking his sides with their own bodies. Ori remained standing at the foot of the bed. They were guarding him for some reason.

“What-what is on the door?” Bofur came back into the room and stood next to Ori.

“A note.” Was all the he replied with. He kept his back to Bilbo and shifted the large mattock in his hands.

“Yes, I can see that.” Bilbo huffed, feeling annoyed that something horrible was clearly happening and no one was telling him anything. He was still in his sleep clothes and he had Thorin’s very beautiful and personal letter stuffed in his shirt so it wouldn’t be sat on, and he was holding a sword.

Oh god, was Thorin hurt?

“Is Thorin-”

“Uncle’s fine.” Fíli answered before Bilbo could finish.

“It’s a threat.” Bofur said after a moment. He didn’t have time for much anything else because Bilbo could hear Thorin, Dwalin, and a few other dwarves coming their way.

And he didn’t sound happy. He sounded furious. It reminded Bilbo a bit of his dragon voice. A bang sounded in the other room and a moment later Thorin, in full royal garb, was storming into the room with eyes that weren’t golden but no less intense than the dragon inside. Bofur and Ori stepped to the side and Fíli and Kíli pushed Bilbo forward. Thorin instantly scooped him up in strong, crushing, embrace and growled something darkly in khuzdul. Bilbo’s sword clattered to the floor loudly and he wrapped his arms around Thorin in return. He still wasn’t sure what was going on but he welcomed the chance to hold Thorin and be sure he was alright. Especially after that beautiful letter. He just wanted a moment alone to tell him how much it had meant to him.

“Who _dared_ to come into my chambers and threaten my Hobbit after I left?” Thorin’s voice was quiet but the danger in it made Bilbo shiver slightly. Thorin held him tighter and tugged him fully off the bed.

“Melekûn u turs?” Dwalin growled from the bedroom door. Ori went to his side and nodded his head.

“I don’t know the handwriting.”

Melekûn u turs? Bilbo mentally translated that and then shuddered. The Hobbit will burn. Was that what was written on the note? Someone had stabbed that into the door after Thorin had left? While Bilbo was asleep?

“Who was on guard duty?”

“They’ll never be again.” Dwalin vowed. Gloin rushed into the room that was quickly becoming too crowded and handed something over to the large dwarf. Thorin loosened his hold on Bilbo and shuffled him around so that he was pressed into Thorin’s side instead of his chest. Bilbo looked around, surprised by the number of dwarves in the room, all of which kept looking at him as if he was about to disappear.

“Would someone please explain what is going on properly?”

“I’m sorry, Ghivashel, I was unaware you hadn’t been told what was going on.” Thorin clutched his hand tightly and indicated the door while Gloin disappeared back out of the room. “Ori, Bofur,Bifur, and Gloin arrived this morning to someone fleeing the room. Gloin pursued them while the others looked after you. They found the note on the door and proceeded to alert myself and secure the room. My nephews were nearest to your room and arrived to keep you safe while I came.” He looked around in distaste before turning his gaze on Balin who had joined when Bilbo wasn’t looking. “Continue the search and alert me the minute you learn anything. Fili, lead the court until this afternoon. I am taking Bilbo to my old chambers until we know of anything else. Dwalin,” he barked the last word out, “attend me.” And then Bilbo was being tugged out of the room with the burly dwarf following them. Thorin didn’t say another word as they stalked down the halls. He didn’t stop and didn’t slow down until they reached a room several floors down. Dwalin took a guarding position outside the door, wielding the larger of his war hammers.

Thorin waited until Bilbo was in the room before shutting the door. This bedroom was about the same size as Thorin’s had been at the Blue Mountains.

“Are you hurt? Are you well?”

Bilbo took a breath and sat down on the bed. He was feeling dizzy and breathless and extremely overwhelmed. “I-I’m fine, Thorin. Just a little, um, dizzy.” Thorin sat beside him and took his hand. It took Bilbo a moment to realize that it was trembling.

“May I hold you?” Bilbo’s head snapped up in surprise and his stomach dropped.

“Oh Thorin, yes. You never have to ask about that.” He leaned into Thorin’s hold and relaxed when the arms went around his shoulders. “I think I’m still confused. Someone threatened me?”

“Yes.” Thorin’s tone was entirely too dark for Bilbo’s liking. He was also uncomfortably warm. And growing warmer.

“Why?”

“Because they do not value their life. I will destroy them when we discover who they are.”

“Is that necessary?” Thorin shook his head and stood up. He paced across the room and spared a glance at Bilbo. The Hobbit gasped in surprise and mild alarm. Thorin’s eyes were lined with gold.

“Someone came into our room after I left. They will be lucky if I do not remove their head from their body the minute they are in my presence.” Thorin turned towards him and Bilbo felt a tremor of fear at the half crazed eyes. It was a strange fear. Instinctual and one he felt to his very core. It was telling him to flee the room, but he couldn’t understand why. This was _Thorin_. Thorin had never given him a reason to be frightened. Bilbo stood up and wrapped his arms around his chest. ”They tried to take my treasure, tried to take what belongs to me.” He stepped nearer Bilbo and the hobbit watched the flowers he’d braided into Thorin’s hair last night wilt and fall to the ground. “You are mine, and no others,halfling! None shall ever have you. I will kill any who dare try.”

Bilbo stared at Thorin in shock. This was not the same dwarf that would hold him through the night and wrote such a beautiful letter to him. This… this was someone else. “A bit excessive, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked wryly.

“Nothing is too excessive to protect my treasures.”

Bilbo didn’t like what he was hearing. It was making something sick turn in his gut, and reminded him far too much of what someone else had said. There were far too many things wrong with the previous two sentences and the primal fear was beginning to make a bit too much sense. “Your _treasures_?” Bilbo swallowed and took a tiny step back. Thorin made to grab him but Bilbo was far quicker on his feet than when he’d first come to the Blue Mountain. He danced away from Thorin’s hold and to the center of the room where it’d be easy to outrun the dwarf. “Is that what I am? Something to hoard and stare at?” Thorin was changing before his eyes, and it was terrifying.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed and lit with a dark fire. There was more gold in them and a thin trail of smoke was coming from his collar. He walked towards Bilbo with slow, measured steps, seeming unaware of the ashes he was leaving in his wake. The unnamable fear he felt when he’d first heard the dragon’s call washed over him again and Bilbo found his breath coming in scared gasps.

“Hobbit,” Thorin growled, “you are mine to protect, mine to cherish. I have named you the King’s-”

“I’m not a jewel you can stick on your throne.” Bilbo bit out before he turned and fled from the room. He pushed past Dwalin and ignored the bellows coming from the room he’d just fled.

There was about to be a dragon in the corridors and Bilbo wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop him.


	16. This Inhuman Beast

  
_Cruella De Vil_   
_Cruella De Vil_   
_If she doesn't scare you_   
_No evil thing will_   
_To see her is to_   
_Take a sudden chill_   
_Cruella, Cruella De Vil_   


_-Cruella De Vil (101 Dalmations)_

 

Bilbo didn’t stop until he reached the royal chambers. Ori, Bifur, and Bofur were standing outside. Bifur grumbled something in khuzdul and Bofur spun just in time to catch a half stumbling Bilbo.

“Help!” Bofur righted him and pushed him back enough to look him in the eyes. A roar from Thorin could be heard at the other end of the hall and Ori squeaked in surprise. Bofur clutched Bilbo and tugged him back. “He’s not himself!” Bilbo continued, babbling uncontrollably and frightened. He’d seen the same wild, untamable look in Thorin’s eyes that he’d seen when his beloved was in dragon form. Something was terribly wrong and now he’d just led him to the others. “Dragon-”

Bifur growled and surged forward. Bofur grabbed Bilbo’s arm and tugged him back. “Ori, the library?”

“No, the kitchen. Nori and Bombur are down there.“ And then the two dwarves were leading him away with the call of an angry dwarf that sounded far more like a dragon echoing behind them.

Bilbo was gasping by the time they made it down to the kitchen. His head was pounding and there was something heavy sitting on his chest and making it utterly impossible to breath. “Set him down!” Nori demanded the moment they arrived at the kitchen. He set Bilbo down in a corner of the room and had Bofur sit next to him. He pushed Bilbo’s head against Bofur’s chest right over his heart.

“Bilbo, you’re having a panic attack.” Nori explained in a very calm voice that did nothing for Bilbo. His chest was burning, he couldn’t breath and he was more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life. He could hear Bofur’s heart pounding in his ear but it wasn’t Thorin’s and it wasn’t nearly as comforting. Nori moved Bilbo around so that Bofur was cradling him while he sent Bombur to guard the door. He started to rub Bilbo’s back and encouraged Bofur to rock him. Bilbo hadn’t been rocked since he was a hobbitling.

“Here’s what you’re going to do, Bilbo. It’s really simple. You’re going to breathe in time with Bofur.” Bofur took a deep breath and Nori grinned happily at him. “Feel how his chest is moving?” Bilbo nodded, the mind numbing fear receding a slight bit. “Okay, open your mouth and pull in a little air when you feel him inhale.” Bofur inhaled and Bilbo feebly pulled in a bit of air. “Now, when he exhales, push out as much air as you can.” Bilbo did and Nori beamed. “Very well done, you just breathed. Can you do it again?” Bilbo did, and the burning in his chest lessened. Bofur kept the steady breathing up, and Bilbo followed his lead. “You’re doing great.” Nori encouraged and Bilbo realized for the first time that Ori was holding his hand. He could feel the soft brush of the yarn.

“Now, since you have your breath back, do you want to try and sit up?” Bilbo shook his head. He didn’t want Bofur to let go. He needed the security of being held even if it wasn’t Thorin.

Thorin had started turning into a dragon. Thorin had started talking to him like he was some sort of jewel. Like he was the property of Thorin.

“What in the name of Mahal is going on?” The kitchen door banged open and Dori stormed in looking panicked. His eyes landed on Ori and he examined the dwarf quickly, slouching in relief when it was obvious he wasn’t injured.

“We don’t know.” Nori snapped before checking himself. He put the large smile on again and rubbed Bilbo’s arm comfortingly. “We’re just holding away in here while everyone else calms the hell down.”

“Thorin’s been transported to the treasure room and they’re saying there is a fire upstairs?”

“Again, we wouldn’t know.” Nori’s grin was painfully large now and he was shooting a murderous look at his brother whose mouth finally clicked shut in understanding. He bustled over to the counter and grabbed a cup of tea someone had brewed. He brought it over to Bilbo and handed it to the hobbit. Bilbo took it with only a slight tremor in his hands. He felt very accomplished. The warm, familiar drink helped calm him down and Bilbo realized he was breathing normally on his own. Ori still held his hand and Bofur was humming under his breath.

He was safe. These dwarves had taken him away from their king because he had looked frightened and asked for help. They were all going to protect him. Until Thorin returned to himself.

Thorin… dear Mahal, what had happened to his dwarf? He’d-he’d started changing into a dragon! What had caused that? It was scarcely nine in the morning. He couldn’t change until night. He never had before at least.

“Th-thank you all. I’m sorry, so sorry for the trouble.” Bilbo hiccuped and tucked his cup nearer. Bofur tightened his hold on the hobbit and Ori clutched his hand more firmly.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bofur asked from above him. Bilbo gave his head a tiny shake.

“From what I can tell Thorin just transformed.” Ori said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “I don’t think it would have been a good idea for you to be there. He’s-well… He’s more violent than last time. It’s like the dragon is enhancing his anger. We don’t need you in the middle of that.”

But Ori didn’t understand. It was Bilbo’s duty to be in the middle of that. Thorin was upset because someone had tried to harm Bilbo. No matter how possessive the dragon might be, it was his worry of Bilbo that had driven Thorin to distraction.

“Ori, Dwalin’s looking for you!” Bombur called into the room. Ori squeezed Bilbo’s hand before popping up and stepping around his objecting brother. He walked out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Is the hobbit safe? Is Bilbo alright?” He could hear Dwalin’s booming voice from where he was curled up against Bofur. He felt ridiculous. Nothing had actually happened, but he’d just been so overwhelmed and frightened. He’d had to deal with the fright each time he’d been near dragon Thorin but it had never been that bad.

He slowly pushed himself out from under Bofur’s arm and set his tea cup down. Nori and Dori looked at him uncertainly and Bilbo made a mental note to ask why Nori knew exactly how to handle a panic attack victim later. He’d never been on the receiving end of the attack before (and hopefully never would again) but he’d seen Frodo through several. He took a deep gulp of air, so grateful to have his lungs full, and stood up. He went to the door without any more pause, ignoring the questions and Bofur’s attempt to stop him. He pulled the door open and stepped through to find Ori and Dwalin deep in discussion.

“Bilbo, praise Mahal! I did not want to have to tell Thorin he hurt you.” The dwarf guard placed a large hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Bilbo stared at him utterly flabbergasted. “Thorin started changing the minute you left.” Dwalin continued, seeing Bilbo’s confusion. The door opened behind Bilbo and he was surrounded by loyal dwarves. “We barely got him on the level of the treasure room.”

“Unhurt?” Dwalin nodded his head with a significant look at Ori. Bilbo still felt a little shaky but his resolve was strengthening. Seeing Dwalin without Thorin near was all the assurance he needed that Thorin was safe. The dwarf would never leave his king if it weren’t so. “Take me to him.”

The loud and varying exclamations of ‘what?’ and ‘no!’ were numerous. Bilbo flinched at the volume but kept his eyes on Dwalin. “I’m assuming the chains aren’t ready yet, and I know you didn’t have the time to bind him in anyway. Once he recovers he’ll come looking for me. There could be a lot of damage done.”

“I thought you might.” Dwalin said with an unreadable glint in his eyes. He motioned for Ori to come closer and the scribe passed his bag to the large dwarf without a word. Dwalin reached into it and shuffled past several notes for a moment before pulling a paper wrapped bundle out. He plucked the strings that were holding it wrapped and handed it to Bilbo. He held the guards gaze for a long moment before unwrapping the soft paper. Inside was a beautiful maile shirt made from a metal that looked like the beads Bilbo wore in his hair. They were cool to the touch and looked like diamonds crossed with starlight and silver. He’d never seen something so beautiful.

“What is it?” He lifted it up and marveled at how utterly light it was.

“Mithril. Thorin had us retrieve it from the treasury when he discovered that you’d been… He wanted to assure you were never harmed in his presence again.” Dwalin passed Ori’s bag back and Bilbo didn’t miss the way his hand lingered on the scribe’s. “Put it on, Master Baggins, and I’ll take you to him.”

Bilbo nodded and slipped his sleep shirt off. He was surrounded by his friends so he hardly had anything to be embarrassed over. He tugged the maile on and let the cool rings slide down his chest. They were silky and cool and utterly unlike any other chainmaile he’d worn in his time with the dwarves. He slipped his sleep shirt back on top of it and rolled his shoulders. The metal was flexible and you couldn’t tell he was wearing it.

“Thank you.” Bilbo swallowed and forced his still sluggish mind into action. There was a lot to be done today. They couldn’t let anyone know that Thorin’s curse was now affecting him during the day. Heated court members might try to pass a vote of no confidence and undermine his authority. Bilbo wouldn’t have that. “Ori, continue working on the Marriage Contract. Balin will represent Thorin and Bofur can represent me.” He cut Dori off before the dwarf could interrupt. “I know he has no station but I am electing him as is my right. We have to have the contract ready to present to the lords of the council tomorrow night. Bombur, continue with the food preparation and pull whoever else you have to in on it. Nori, tell Fíli that he’s taking over the court duties today. All day. If anyone asks I’ve pulled Thorin away to observe a Hobbit wedding ritual. Don’t offer anything else.”

Bofur placed a heavy, gloved hand on his shoulder. “Bilbo,”

“I’ve got to try.”

“I know. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

And they were off.

-[]-[o]-[]-

“Yell out if you need aid.” Dwalin said, again, as they approached the treasure room doors. There was an intense heat coming from them, and the air felt thick.

“I will, Dwalin.”

“Du bakhar.”

“Yes, though I don’t know why ‘help!’ won’t work.” Bilbo shuffled his feet and wondered if he was only imagining that the floor felt warmer.

“Because all the guards will understand the khuzdul.” Bilbo nodded his head and squared his shoulders before stepping forward. He went a few feet and abruptly turned around and went back to Dwalin. The dwarf looked at him uncertainly. Bilbo unclasped his sword and handed it to Dwalin.

“I’d rather this not be harmed and it would hardly be of any use against a dragon.” A quick nod and Bilbo was back at the door. He pushed it open slowly and looked around. The gold was rolling around but he couldn’t see the dragon’s actual form through the treasure.

Bugger.

Bilbo walked forward tentatively and tried to remember how brave he’d been outside the door. He had armor this time, there was no need to be frightened.

The gold stopped rolling around and deep breaths could be heard echoing around the chamber. Bilbo swallowed again and took another small step forward. The stone was warm under his feet. He fisted his hands and bent forward at the waist before looking to the left and right. There was no sign of Thorin. Bilbo righted and went down the rest of the steps. If Thorin wasn’t anywhere to be seen, that meant he was buried-

The gold exploded into the air with a deafening roar and blast of too warm air. A writhing mass of black and silver surged upwards and Bilbo stumbled back onto the steps with a yelp of surprise. Thorin’s dragon face stopped in front of his and a puff of smoke hit him in the head. Bilbo choked and struggled for breath. “Didn’t-ack!- Didn’t we talk about the smoke?” He finally managed. Thorin growled and Bilbo was up in the air. The room flew around him and he was hurtling towards the gold. His arms flailed through the air and came in contact to claws once again wrapped around his stomach. Thorin deposited Bilbo on a pile of diamonds and sat in front of him. He bent his head over the hobbit and wrapped his wings around him so that Bilbo was surrounded by dragon and couldn’t see any light. He took a moment to regain his bearings and cope with the fact that Thorin had just tossed him around before covering him like a hobbitling catching a firefly.

It was really dark and warm in the dragon’s hold. He could feel sweat already trailing down his face and it was uncomfortably sticky on his legs and hands. His chest still felt oddly cool, thanks to the maile. The dragon was muttering in khuzdul and it took a long while for Bilbo to figure that out.

“Thorin?” He called out tentatively. His throat was extremely dry. The dragon rumbled around him but the wing pulled back the slightest bit and Bilbo could see one glowing golden eye.

“Melekûn?”

Biblo repressed a sigh. He had a name. Why was Thorin just calling him ‘hobbit?’ Did it have something to do with the...madness that took over? Thorin hadn’t been anything like this that first night. He’d just cuddled Bilbo as well as he could and listened to him-

Perfect. Bilbo put a hand on Thorin’s hot chest and started to hum. It was nonsensical at first but at the sight of Thorin relaxing slightly Bilbo switched to an old drinking song that was popular when Saradoc and him were younger.

_“Oh, you can search far and wide,_

_You can drink the whole town dry!_

_But you’ll never find a beer so brown_

_As the one we drink in our hometown!”_

Thorin rumbled deep in his chest and it occurred to Bilbo after a moment that it might have been a laugh. Hope flared in his chest and he kept right on singing. He started swaying in his seat at the climax of the song and Thorin opened his wings a little wider. Bilbo relished the cooler air that flowed in and finished the song with a cheerful shout.

“Again?”

Bilbo complied, but this time he stood up so he could give the full dance. Thorin seemed to have enjoyed him swaying. By the time he finished the chorus Thorin’s wings had completely dropped and he was staring at Bilbo with a far less dark gaze. He swallowed hard and stepped forward. Thorin growled low in his throat but Bilbo didn’t stop. He lifted his hands up in peace and went right up to Thorin’s nose. He laid a tentative hand on top of it, wincing slightly at how hot the scales were. They were smooth to the touch, and darker than the blackest obsidian Bilbo had ever seen. If Thorin was flying at night he’d be utterly invisible.

“You know, you’re quite remarkable.” He brought his other hand up and stroked the scales. “Utterly beautiful, and so majestic. I’ve never seen a dragon before you, obviously, but I can’t think they’d be as breathtaking.”

“Ghivashel…” The word was barely a whisper, but it was Thorin’s voice that whispered it and not the half crazed dragon voice. Bilbo surged forward and wrapped his arms around as much of Thorin’s face as he could and held on tightly. A deep vibration echoed in the dragon’s throat and Bilbo very nearly laughed because he was hugging his love and he was purring.

The doors to the chamber slammed shut and Bilbo stumbled back a step in surprise. Thorin roared, loudly and Bilbo dropped to the ground and covered his ears as best he could. Gold surged around him as Thorin bellowed a warning at whatever idiot dwarf had messed with the door and shot a roll of flame at the stone doors. Bilbo watched, in utter horror, as it bounded off the door. He could feel the heat from the flames and it was more intense than any heat he’d ever before felt. Thorin roared at the ceiling and Bilbo scrambled backwards. He’d almost had him!

Thorin had calmed down, he was coming back to himself, he’d called him Ghivashel which was something only sane Thorin ever called Bilbo. Now he had a raging dragon again who didn’t seem to be all that careful about where he sprayed his fire.

Bilbo tripped on a goblet-why it was just sitting on the pile of gold he didn’t understand-and he fell backwards with a loud clatter.

And Thorin’s attention was fully on him. The dragon’s eye were narrowed to slits and burning with a fierce fire. “Thorin,” he couldn’t control the slight tremble or the way his voice just faded out. The deep, primal fear was back full force and Bilbo couldn’t think around it because Thorin was really big and wild looking.

All of a sudden Bilbo felt himself being pushed through a seemingly endless pile of gold and pinned onto a hard stone floor by a very big dragon foot. His golden eyes burned with something instinctual, visceral and wild. The head lowered until it was just over Bilbo and the nostrils flared. The hobbit could do nothing about the fear rolling off him in great waves and he knew Thorin would smell it. It’d probably drive him deeper into the madness.

“Yes. I told you not to leave me, halfling.”

“I didn’t-” Bilbo squeaked out. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. There was no physical way to escape.

“You are mine” The word was hissed out between gritted teeth right in Bilbo’s face. His hair moved with the force of the released breath and Bilbo’s entire body trembled.

“I-I know! I belong to you.” Thorin growled lowly and pressed harder on Bilbo. He cried out at the pressure but the Mithril kept his chest protected. “Menu abvôn men!” (You own me.)  He shouted as loudly as he could with what air he had. “Men menu! Men menu, Thorin!” (I’m yours! I’m yours, Thorin!) The pressure on his chest lessened a slight bit and Bilbo drew in a ragged breath. He coughed and rolled over to his side to get more air. Thorin’s paw moved and Bilbo blinked the water out of his eyes as he coughed again. “Menu agrîf men kudz, Thorin.” (You have my heart, Thorin.) He whimpered after a moment. A startled roar sounded behind him and Bilbo looked up just in time to see Thorin stumble backwards. The dragon fell onto a pile of gold with an anguished cry and Bilbo was up, still coughing, and running to the desolate creature as quickly as he could. He stumbled over the (stupid!) gold and finally made it to Thorin’s head. He grasped him in another embrace and blinked back his own tears.

The dragon eyes opened, and the tiniest veins of blue made Bilbo’s heart leap to his throat. A rolling tear ran down the scales, sizzling even as it fell and Bilbo dropped his forehead to Thorin’s nose.

“Ghivashel,” the dragon mourned, “what have I done?”


	17. Like the Fog Has Lifted

  
_All those days watching from the windows_   
_All those years outside looking in_   
_All that time never even knowing_   
_Just how blind I've been_   
_Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight_   
_Now I'm here, suddenly I see_   
_Standing here, it's oh so clear_   
_I'm where I'm meant to be_   


_-I See the Light (Tangled)_

* * *

_  
_   


 

Bilbo had no idea when he blacked out, but he was beginning to grow used to falling asleep with a dragon and if that didn’t sum up how utterly unstable his life was, Bilbo had no idea what would. He was being held impossibly close to a soft shirt and pressed against a hard, familiar, warm chest. They were laying on something soft, Thorin’s fur cloak which would have made Bilbo grin if he was more awake. A calloused hand was stroking his hair and something wet was dropping onto his forehead.

Wait, what?

Bilbo’s eyes popped open in surprise to see Thorin’s fully blue eyes looking back down at him. They were damp with tears and Bilbo frowned instantly at the tears. His mind was still foggy with sleep but he knew Thorin should never be crying.

“Don’t,” Bilbo mumbled and Thorin instantly released his hold on Bilbo. He scooted back with a pained grimace and wrapped his arms around his own chest as if he was trying to hold himself together. Bilbo pushed himself up slowly, utterly confused. “Thorin? Why aren’t you-”

“What is happening to me, Ghivashel? Why have I been so cursed that I keep causing you harm?”

“You remember?” Thorin shook his head sharply, tears still falling down his proud face.

“I remember taking you to my bedroom and needing to hold you. I held you close and then… and then just the fires. They came on quicker than any I have ever had. I could not even warn you before they consumed my mind. Please-I-what happened?”

“You-well… I’m afraid I don’t really know. You got angry and your eyes started to change. I left when you began to smoke.”

“I harmed you as a dwarf?” Thorin lost what little color he’d had and wrapped his arms more tightly around his chest.

“Actually,” Bilbo corrected as he rolled his neck, he was going for casually calm and hoped it came across that way, “you’re eyes were very gold. That’s why I ran away. You were transforming in the middle of the day and I didn’t really know what to do. Dwalin took you to the treasure room.” He dropped his gaze to his shirt and ran his hand over the pocket there. He could feel the outline of the letter folded away in there. “I’m sorry I fled.”

“Ghivashel-do not be sorry. You should never have to be ashamed to leave me. You did not sign up to deal with a dragon.”

Bilbo shook his head, guilt flooding him. He’d left Thorin alone and in danger because he’d been frightened.“I don’t mind dealing with dragon you. It’s scary when it’s happening, but that doesn’t change anything. I still love you.”

“I-what?” Thorin looked utterly lost and it killed Bilbo every time he looked that way. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying it would be to lose such large chunks of time and have no control over what you did in such a dangerous form. He knew Thorin felt guilty for everything he did but Bilbo didn’t think he should. He saw them as two very different beings. It was obvious to him that Dragon Thorin was not _his_ Thorin. It was the curse-though he could see moments where his Thorin broke through the evil of the curse.

“Which part? You were changing into a dragon… I don’t know why and I’m a little concerned about that. Dwalin will have Gandalf looking into it.”

“I am a menace.” Thorin stated and he turned his head to look at the sea of gold they were on top of. “I should release you from your vows. You did not know you were going to have to deal with a dragon that would harm you. I have even caused you guilt for attempting to preserve your life.”

“Release-are you kidding?” Bilbo huffed and scooted closer to Thorin. “If you even try to release me you will have a furious hobbit on your hands. I don’t care if you’re a dragon, Thorin. I agreed to marry you the other night after I’d spent the night with a very possessive dragon. I was fully aware of your state. I also didn’t know that curing you before the wedding was ever an option. For all I knew you would remain cursed for a long time. That didn’t affect my decision.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” There was a slight tremble in Thorin’s voice though his expression was unreadable. “You... want to spend the rest of your life with me? Like this?”

“Of course. I wanted to spend my life with you the moment you kissed me. While I hadn’t anticipated dragons, they haven’t deterred me. Your dragon hasn’t figured out how much larger than me his is. He isn’t actually trying to hurt me.” At least Bilbo hoped he wasn’t. The evidence didn’t lead to Thorin trying to hurt him, just restrain him. “And I’ll figure a way to calm your hoarding instincts if it’s the last thing I do.” He trailed a finger down Thorin’s cheek. “It kills me that there is a part of you that doesn’t believe I belong completely to you.” He whispered, before a horrible idea occurred to him. He recoiled as a sick, terrible feeling grew in his stomach.  Thorin knew Bilbo had run. He knew Bilbo was scared and that had to be a terrible insult to dwarves, as braves as the were. “Unless, of course, you don’t actually want to marry me. I’d understand. I’m nothing, just a simple hobbit. Hardly worthy of-“

With a speed such that Bilbo couldn’t even comprehend the movement, Bilbo was pushed on his back and held there by an immovable force. Thorin was on top of him, breathing heavily, his eyes lit with the faintest spreading of gold, and his skin practically radiating heat. He pinned Bilbo’s hands above his head and held them there unrelenting.

But it wasn’t painful, not with Thorin. Even with a trace of the dragon in his eyes, Thorin was in control and Thorin would never harm him. Bilbo believed that with all his heart. He’d happily spend the rest of his life convincing Thorin of that fact. He’d watched his Thorin fight off a curse of unspeakable evil because Bilbo had needed him to.

“Ghivashel, of course I want to wed you.” He growled lowly, and he shifted over Bilbo making the hobbit gasp in surprise. Thorin was hard against him, warm, and so very powerful. “I ache for you, Bilbo, constantly. You’re so perfect. The way you look, and smell, and laugh… I constantly want to claim you and mark you as mine so the world will know to whom you belong. That this extraordinary, brave, loyal, radiant, hobbit is mine. I long to wear your own mark so that all will know _I_ Thorin King under the Mountain have been _claimed_ by you as well.”

Bilbo gasped in surprise at the surge of desire that Thorin’s words brought in him. He’d never really thought about marking Thorin as his but the idea was remarkably appealing.

“I can barely hold myself back even now. You’re so bright, so beautiful. It hurts to look at your brilliance sometimes. It makes me want…” He trailed off and licked at the sweat cooling on Bilbo’s throat making Bilbo moan loudly. Thorin pulled back quickly and looked him in the eyes. “Do not ever doubt that I would make you mine.”

“Then will you? I long to be sure of you. I-I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want to be without you. I don’t want to be alone again. Please don’t reject my heart.” It was a low blow to be sure, but it worked exactly as Bilbo wanted. Thorin surged forward and took Bilbo’s lips in a hot, frantic, and possessive kiss. His urge to please Bilbo and make him feel secure overruled his own self loathing. His tongue entered deep into Bilbo’s very willing mouth and took all that he offered. Bilbo groaned into Thorin’s mouth as the dwarf ground their hips together.

“Ghivashel, men Ghivashel,” Thorin murmured against his lips and Bilbo shuddered helpless. He could feel the untapped strength in Thorin, lurking just beneath his skin. He tugged at his hands to free them and Thorin growled against his lips. His hold tightened momentarily before he released them and Bilbo instantly started working on the laces of Thorin’s tunic. Thorin pulled back just long enough to shuck the tunic to the side before he bent back down to reclaim Bilbo’s lips. He worked at Bilbo’s own buttons and only paused when he’d pushed it back and his fingers trailed against the maile that Bilbo had forgotten he was still wearing.

“What is this?” Thorin pushed up and peered down at Bilbo’s chest. His eyes widened and his fingers stopped pushing the sleep shirt aside. He pressed his palm flat against the cool links and slid his hand up till it rested over Bilbo’s heart. He met the halfling’s eyes and he exhaled at the amount of emotion in them. “Mithril,” he breathed, his eyes misty, “thank you, Dwalin.” He pressed a quick kiss to Bilbo’s lips before looking at the shirt again. “We will leave this on. It would please me if you never took it off.”

That seemed horribly impractical but Thorin leaned down to kiss and nibble his neck and Bilbo forgot to say much of anything except ‘yes,’ ‘more,’ and Thorin’s name. Thorin continued to lavish attention on Bilbo’s body and the hobbit scrambled for the pocket in Thorin’s cloak. He found the small vial of oil that the king always carried (Bilbo had surprised him twice in the broom cupboard outside the Throne room and Thorin had sworn never to be caught off guard again) and thrust it into Thorin’s hands. He lost himself again at the groan Thorin issued as he rid both of them of their breeches. He prepared Bilbo steadily, murmuring non stop.

“So beautiful… Ghivashel you were made for me, were you not?” The gold that had permeated his eyes earlier in their coupling had faded away leaving only the desire-darkened blue. “You will be mine in a week. All will know you belong to me.”

“Six days,” Bilbo gasped out as Thorin withdrew his fingers, “only six days. You’ll be mine.” The dwarf coated himself and looked down at Bilbo wildly. Thorin growled in broken khuzdul and a slick, blunt pressure pushed inside him. It filled him up, hot and hard and deeper until Thorin was flush against him and Bilbo was writhing uncontrollably.

“Hands.” Thorin demanded and Bilbo laid them out on either side of his head. Thorin grasped them together in one large hand and supported his weight with the other. He took Bilbo earnestly, with long, deep, hard thrust that had Bilbo moaning loudly and without care. He was laying on Thorin’s cloak on top of a pile of gold in the treasure room where anyone could walk in at any moment but by Mahal he did not care one iota. The drag of Thorin’s cock against his prostate made him howl and Bilbo had to close his eyes at how good it all felt. Thorin taking him and making him full and feeling so wanted. Feeling claimed and loved.

Stars burst behind his eyelids with every thrust and the pressure that built at the base of his spine intensified. He wouldn’t last long and everything was so hot and perfect and Thorin’s eyes, nearly black from the size of his pupils, did not have a hint of gold.  His Thorin was taking him, owning him, without a hint of the madness and Bilbo would probably never leave his arms again if it kept the madness at bay. He’d enjoy every second of it too.

Thorin wrapped his hand around Bilbo’s cock and stroked causing Bilbo to nearly scream when he hit his prostate with a particularly hard thrust. The dwarf dropped to his lips and devoured the noise with a sloppy kiss that ended with Bilbo shouting Thorin’s name as he climaxed. Thorin continued to thrust through the orgasm and it didn’t take too long for him to follow with a growl and one final, deep thrust. He moaned out Bilbo’s name-a sound the Hobbit would not tire of- and released Bilbo’s hands. He caught himself right before he fell completely on him and rolled over. He tugged Bilbo to his chest and Bilbo instantly went for a kiss. Thorin kissed him back with lazy, slow kisses that made Bilbo’s toes curl. Bilbo sighed at the warmth, and contentment, at the blissful pleasure of being held by Thorin. He traced lazy patterns across Thorin’s strong chest, nosing along the underside of Thorin’s jaw.

“I love you, Thorin.”

When Thorin pulled away he had a slightly dazed, worried look on his face. “Are you-“

“Do not ask if I’m alright when I’m feeling so wonderfully warm and satisfied.” Bilbo interrupted. “Now, we only have a bit before someone comes and tries to make us do some sort of court duty and I want a cuddle.” Thorin complied and wrapped him close. “I mean what I said, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“I would marry you even if you were a dragon each night. I’d do so quite happily.”

“And you, my heart, need not worry. I will not leave you.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and placed a kiss against Thorin’s chest in reply. For now it would have to be enough.

-[]-[O]-[]-

“What have you found out?” Thorin demanded the minute they left the treasure room. He had Bilbo wrapped up in his cloak and Bilbo did not think he was going to give it back. It was deliciously warm and smelled like Thorin. It also made him feel safe for some inexplicable reason. And after the morning he’d had he wanted to feel a bit safer.

“Very little I’m afraid.” Gandalf answered quickly. He had his staff in hand and a tome in the other. Dwalin and Balin were standing on either side of him and they both looked very unhappy. There were ten fully armored dwarves standing around them as well. “The dwarf that Gloin saw escaped our clutches.” Thorin pulled Bilbo closer.

“What time is it?”

“Noon. You were locked up for a day.” Thorin cursed under his breath and shook his head.

“Fili has headed the court and we’ve taken care of the final preparations for the feast tonight.” Balin stepped forward and handed a thick roll of paper to Thorin. “Ori finished this an hour ago. I hope it’s-”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Balin. Thank you.” Thorin passed the paper to Bilbo and squared his shoulders. Bilbo noticed for the first time that he didn’t have his crown on. “Gandaf, why did I turn into a dragon? The curse has never affected me in the morning.”

“Ah,” Gandalf frowned and shifted the book in his hand, “I’m afraid your symptoms are not tied to the time of day. It’s a set of hours from the discovery of a new strain in the mines.”

Thorin frowned. “That still doesn’t explain why I-” Thoring stopped abruptly and he grew pale. “Someone was mining in the night?”

Balin nodded. “We’ve already set up a night watch. I suspect the person that threatened Bilbo was behind it.”

Thorin’s gaze darkened and a cold fury lit his blue eyes. A tinge of gold appeared around his eyes and Bilbo felt a shiver of fear. Not from Thorin, but at whatever was making Thorin that angry.

“You believe that someone dug in the night to find a new strain, and new I would I change in the morning?”

“Essentially.” Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo and tugged him in front of him. He wrapped him in one arm protectively and laid a hand on his sword hilt.

“They then threatened Bilbo knowing I would go to him. They intended on me changing in front of him and burning him.”

“That is my belief.” Gandalf’s voice was quiet but it might as well have been a shout for how loudly it echoed through the hall. Bilbo felt cold despite the warm cloak and he thought he might have been shaking a bit.

Someone was trying to kill him. Why? He was just a hobbit. He wasn’t anything particularly special. The only thing remarkable about him was that Thorin loved hi-

He was the one that was going to cure Thorin. “They don’t want Thorin cured?” Bilbo murmured, hardly aware he was speaking. He felt lightheaded and oddly detached. It was like he was seeing the event from someone elses point of view.

“Harming Thorin is the only logical reason to harm you, Bilbo.” Gandalf passed the book in his arm to Balin and shuffled towards the hobbit. He bent down and placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Thorin tensed behind him and Bilbo’s eyes widened at the light shock that accompanied the wizard’s touch. “Do not fear, Bilbo. You will be safe.”

“Safe?” Thorin’s voice was dark and low. Bilbo imagined he could hear a shadow of the dragon in it. “How do you propose to keep him safe? You were of no aid yesterday morning. When Bilbo’s need was dire you were nowhere to be found.” Thorin tugged Bilbo back enough that Gandalf’s hand slipped off his shoulder. While Bilbo completely agreed that Thorin had a good point, he didn’t think that was the right way to handle it. He dropped his eyes to the floor in an attempt to look like he wasn’t picking a side. He’d pick Thorin’s of course, but he’d rather not have to.

Gandalf stepped back and then changed. It was a quick, sudden change that left the Bilbo breathless and frightened. He seemed to grow three times his size and the air around him crackled with barely controlled power. His skin seemed to glow with firelight and his eyes burned with blue flame. “I am not a mere conjurer, Thorin Thrainson. Do not dare to think you can challenge me. I am here to aid you, and aid you I shall.” Gandalf seemed to shrink and the crackling energy in the air dissipated, though Bilbo still couldn’t breathe. “Yesterday morning I was delayed. I will not be again.”

Gandalf seemed stooped suddenly, once more the old man he was when Bilbo had first met him. “Thorin, trust me as you use to.”

No one spoke for several long seconds until, finally, Thorin’s hold on Bilbo relaxed though he didn’t let the hobbit go. “Do not fail me in this, wizard.”

If Gandalf was annoyed by Thorin, he didn’t show it. “Come now, you have to appear in the court before your attacker thinks himself too successful. Strangely, we’ve actually been rather fortunate. The dwarf is clearly unaware that Bilbo has already spent time with the dragon. He might have simply finished the job himself if he had known.”

The look on Thorin’s face made it clear what he thought of that statement. “They will not have the chance. Dwalin, escort Bilbo to his quarters and see that a full guard is issued to him.” He shared a telling look with his body guard. “Assign those you trust most, my friend.” Dwalin nodded his head and Bilbo found himself being led away with one last hug from Thorin.

-[]-[o]-[]-

The feast was proceeding as they had originally planned which meant that Bilbo had to deal with a slightly frantic Dori who only had a little time to make any adjustments on his outfit. It felt a bit silly after the excitement of the last day to worry about clothing, but that was court life. Bilbo was to be presented to the court tonight as the King’s intended. They wouldn’t have any say on Thorin’s ability to marry Bilbo, but they could make their married life far more difficult if they disliked him.

One of the more enjoyable parts of Bilbo’s day had been court lessons. They took place after Breakfast and continued till Elevensies. He missed his lesson yesterday, and he’d missed it this morning. However, he had to have some basic instructions on how to behave at the feast so Bofur had followed him to the final fitting. Dori was adding a few stitches to the new surcoat while Bofur went about fixing his hair. Bilbo was fairly certain Bofur just liked playing with his curls. Though, all the dwarves were still giving him looks like they couldn’t believe he was really there and in one piece.

“Make sure to walk and sit properly.” Dori said absently as he stitched a button on. Bilbo watched the needle disappear into the fabric before commenting.

“Meaning?”

“Always walk and sit on the left.” Bofur explained with a light tug on one of his curls. The dwarves all loved watching them spring back in place. Curly hair was a bit of a wonder to them. Dori nodded his head with a small smile.

“Why?” Bilbo fidgeted slightly as Dori tugged on his sleeve.

“So that Thorin can push you behind himself and draw his sword at the same time.” The dwarf said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and it took Bilbo a moment to really make that statement make any sense.

“Wait-what? Does that happen a lot?” His mind flashed back to the sound of Bofur’s shout when he’d burst into his room the previous morning. He wasn’t sure his heart would handle that sort of thing regularly.

“Not really. It’s better to be safe though.” Bilbo huffed out a laugh and almost crossed his arms over his chest. He caught himself at the last moment saving himself from the wrath of Dori when his hemming was messed up.

“Dwalin would flatten anyone who so much as looked at me with a squint. I hardly think there will be a chance for any ill intent. Especially with all of you milling about.” It was true as well. Security around Bilbo had tripled since he’d left the treasure room. Glóin and Kíli were even guarding them while they were in Bilbo’s chambers. There were fourteen guards stationed outside his quarters armed to the teeth as well. Bifur and Nori were also seated on the bed whittling. Ori was at the desk and it all made for a very crowded room, and one very well protected hobbit.

He also had his little sword buckled around his waist. Fíli had tried to loan him one of the numerous daggers he kept on his person but Bilbo had politely declined. “Be that as it may, you still have to stay at his left.” Bofur clasped Bilbo’s braids with the last bead and walked around to the front.

“Those look lovely.” Dori commented with a pleased smile.

“I’ve nearly finished the final flourishes, how long do we have?” Ori asked over his shoulder. Bilbo chose to ignore the dagger he had propped beside his quill.

“About twenty minutes. You might want to hurry it up just a bit.” Kíli was already in his royal gown and looking quite unhappy about it. He was rubbing a throwing axe against a whetstone. It looked like one of Fíli’s.

Ori made a final mark on the contract and then stood up with a stretch. “Alright. Give that five minutes to dry and we’re done. Dori?”

The dwarf huffed and straightened up. He regarded Bilbo with a critical eye and nodded. “Done.” He met Bilbo’s eyes with a small smile. “You look every bit a royal consort, Master Baggins.”

“Aye, that you do.” Bilbo blushed and looked down at himself. Ready or not, it was time to face the court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I started with an apology and Bilbo trying to explain that Thorin wasn't really responsible for dragon!Thorin when all of a sudden the characters just kind of it went at each other. Then Gandalf showed up and Thorin got annoyed... This was not where I intended on going with this chapter but hey, that's what happens when you deal with dwarves and wizards.


	18. Nothing's Worth the Fuss

  
_A perfect world will come to be_   
_When everybody here can see_   
_That a perfect world begins and ends_   
_A perfect world begins and ends_   
_A perfect world begins and ends with us._   


_-Perfect World (The Emperors New Groove)_

* * *

_  
_  


Bilbo was led into the council chambers just outside the banquet hall. Gloin pushed the tall door open and Bilbo was ushered inside the nearly empty room. Dwalin was standing in front of the door and Thorin was at the far end of the room in full royal garb. He was breathtaking in the most simple ways to Bilbo everyday, but when he was in his cloak and finely stitched weskit, with the crown there was something so powerful about him that always made the  hobbit pause.

“My king,” Bilbo bowed his head and tried to swallow. He’d been vaguely nervous all afternoon, but now he was nearly fraught with nerves.

“Ghivashel, you look radiant.” Thorin closed the distance between them and grasped Bilbo’s hands in his own. “Are you ready for the feast? You will be by my side tonight.” Bilbo smiled at the satisfied look on Thorin’s hand and squeezed his hand. He hardly ever got to eat beside Thorin. He was always having to talk to a different member of the court. When he became the official consort he’d be allowed to sit by his husband (and wasn’t that a wonderful word) every night.

“Three paces behind and to the left. I take the seat to your left and don’t speak until after you’ve started to eat.” Thorin chuckled low in his throat as they walked down the hall to the door where Dwalin was standing guard.

“I see that your court lessons have continued.”

“I’m acing my courses.” Bilbo replied with a cheeky grin. He squeezed Thorin’s hand before letting go and dropping back the three paces. He kept his eyes on Thorin as they made their way out of the room and to the Banquet hall. Erebor's main hall had been redressed into a multi-coloured, expansively lit, explosion of dwarves, and music and voices. Two guards opened the door and Thorin swept in with Bilbo right behind him. The hobbit imagined it was probably quite a dramatic entrance into the already full room.

It was more...it was so much more than Bilbo had ever expected. It was more enough to make him ever so slightly dizzy, and oddly, flattered. This was for Thorin, for their king of course, but it also was for Bilbo. It was to honor and celebrate them.

Balin announced them in khuzdul and Thorin went straight to the head table. He waited for Bilbo to reach him and they took their seats in time. The servants came forward and started to serve the food.

Thorin took a bite of his meat and the rest of the court dug in. This was the part of feasts that Bilbo was quite good at. He had impeccable manners and was good at making small talk, as all hobbits were. He sat beside Lord Trumpkin who was one of the court members that Bilbo actually liked. He was funny, loyal to Thrór and Thorin, and seemed to like Bilbo.  He also had fiery red hair and and new a lot of good drinking songs. Belegend sat on Trumpkin’s other side, and while Bilbo kept polite conversation with the dwarf, he did not like him.

It was easy to forget his distaste for the other dwarf though, when Thorin kept pressing his leg against Bilbo’s and brushing his fingers against Bilbo’s.

It was after the dinner that Bilbo started to have problems. He’d attended several feast at this point, but he still wasn’t exactly sure what to do after the food was gone. Thorin floated around the room with the ease of someone who had grown up in court and was accustomed to the fake politeness of the court.

Bilbo on the other hand, moved around with all the grace of a calf just figuring out it could stand, let alone walk. He realized he still hadn’t actually asked anyone what one was supposed to do at these sort of things. Bofur had told him it was important to mingle, and that you didn’t just talk to one person all night. Everyone else always seemed to be talking in groups, and Bilbo wasn’t certain how to join in them. Especially when the conversations were about the brightness of certain gems in comparison to others.

It was really quite boring. Balin saw him almost hiding behind a curtain and came to him. “You look a bit miserable.” Balin commented with a grin. He passed Bilbo a goblet of some sort of ale and Bilbo took it gratefully.

“I’ve no idea what I’m actually supposed to be doing. Other than smiling.”

“Mingle mostly. Though, you’re permitted to dance if you want.”

“I’d have to free Thorin from the councils’ clutches for that.”

“You could always ask someone else.” Bilbo’s head snapped over to look at the dwarf so quickly he thought he heard a crack.

“At our _wedding_ feast?” Bilbo took a swallow of whatever Balin had given him. It burned the back of his throat and had an oaty flavor.

“I was thinking of Dis. Or Fíli and Kíli.” Bilbo snorted and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t trust Fíli or Kíli not to try and make a spectacle.”

“They would without a doubt.” Balin assured him with a nod. He shifted on his feet and regarded Bilbo from under his thick eyebrows. Bilbo had thought it was a sign the dwarf didn’t like him when they first met. Now he just knew that Balin was considering him. “Ask him to dance when he finishes with Odin. He’ll be happy for the distraction.” Balin clapped him on the shoulder and wandered off into the crowd of dwarves, leaving Bilbo alone. The hobbit’s eyes instantly sought out Thorin and he found him quickly. He was talking to a bulky, grey haired dwarf and Bilbo could see his smile from across the room. It made him warm and light to see Thorin looking less grave.

"Do you like the music?"

The voice was familiar enough that Bilbo answered without thinking. There was a slight nag in the back of his mind that made him flinch though.

"It's amazing, they're all very talented." And the were. Bilbo didn’t recognize any of the dwarves playing but they did so beautifully. Though, Bilbo thought Thorin was better with his harp.

Then he turned around and very nearly spilled his drink everywhere.

"I recommended them."

Bilbo smiled and nodded at Pryftan and tried desperately not to let his face show his dislike. The dwarf only ever appeared when Bilbo was alone, or very nearly. He always left Bilbo feeling uneasy and scared, for no real reason.

"I heard you had a busy morning.” Pryftan’s dark eyes were piercing and completely fixed on Bilbo’s own. He tried not to flounder too obviously.

“Well, I do wed in little more than five days. I tend to be busy.” He forced the words out past a strange lump in his throat and tried to ignore the sick turning in his gut. The silence had dragged on too long.

Pryftan laughed. "Of course. Made all the worse by Thorin’s condition, I’m sure." Pryftan touched his arm, a slide of his hand over the silk of Bilbo’s sleeve. He left his fingers there...which was a weird feeling to say the least.

Pryftan was _touching_ him.

Should Pryftan be touching him? Was touching even allowed at this sort of thing? It was a feast _celebrating the announcement of his wedding_ it hardly seemed the sort of thing were touching was allowed.

The sick feeling in his stomach seemed to get even worse.

“Would you care for a dance, Bilbo? I fear I am rather bored with the proceedings and I would enjoy a distraction.”

Bilbo’s mouth popped open in an incredulous manner. Pryftan chuckled again and reached for Bilbo’s goblet with the hand that wasn’t touching Bilbo’s arm. He took his goblet and set it aside before running his fingers along Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo had no idea, _no idea_ , how to handle this particular situation. The dwarf he found creepy at the best of times, was asking him to dance while touching him. It hadn’t happened to Bilbo often, but he was fairly certain this dwarf was hitting on him.

At Bilbo’s wedding feast.

“I assure you, I’m quite light on my feet.” He moved the hand on Bilbo’s arm and brushed the tip of his finger against Thorin’s bead that was clasped at the end of Bilbo’s courting braid. “More so than some.”

Bilbo realized his mouth was open and he clicked it shut before taking a step back. He shook his hand free from Pryftan and unconsciously wiped his hand against his weskit to clean it. He felt positively sick.

“Master Boggin’s!” Came Kíli’s overly cheerful voice and Bilbo had _never_ been so happy to see the princeling in his life. He looped his arm through Bilbo’s and tugged him back a few steps. Which Bilbo took happily. “I’ve been looking for you all evening! Mother want’s to discuss a few final plans with you before Uncle claims you for the rest of the evening.” He turned his gaze to Pryftan and managed to look down his nose at the dwarf as though he were a bit of fascinating filth on the bottom of his shoe. “I trust you can entertain yourself, Pryftan. I’m sure it’s something you’ve become quite adept at since you were relieved of your position on the guard.”

Pryftan inclined his head just enough for court propriety before locking his eyes on Bilbo again. “Indeed. I shall look for my entertainment elsewhere. I shall see you again, Bilbo.” The dwarf turned around and left with a billow of his black robes. Bilbo tried not to shudder.

“Thank you.”

Kíli shook his head adamantly. “No-don’t thank me. That… that shouldn’t have been necessary.” He lead Bilbo towards a more crowded end of the hall. Fíli was waiting with a very unamused looking Dís. It took Bilbo a moment to even see past the very pointed glare she was sending to someone behind Bilbo to even realize that Thorin was behind her.

While Dís looked angry, Thorin looked incensed. His eyes were burning with cold fury and his lips were pulled down in an utterly murderous expression.

“Who was it, nephew?” Thorin demanded the moment the duo neared them. “Who dared to touch my intended like that?”

“Pryftan.” Bilbo was not imagining the disgust in Kíli’s tone and it made him feel infinitely better in disliking the dwarf. Thorin’s gaze darkened, which Bilbo hadn’t thought would be possible outside of dragon form. Kíli released his arm and gave him a little push towards Thorin. Bilbo didn't need the encouragement. He went to Thorin's side and took the king's hand.

"Dís? Please inform Balin that Bilbo and I will be back in ten minutes. Bilbo, if you would accompany me." Bilbo fell into step with Thorin, noting that ever present Dwalin followed them. Thorin took him back to the council room and Dwalin shut the door behind them. Thorin waited five seconds and then Bilbo felt himself being pushed into a wall.

"Where all did he touch you?" He demanded with a nip at Bilbo's jaw. He was utterly helpless against the shudders that racked his body at the simple touch.

"My upper arm." He managed after a moment. Thorin took Bilbo's weskit off and his broad hand easily found the exact spot where Pryftan had held him minutes ago. With a harsh breath, Thorin lifted Bilbo’s arm and latched his lips to Bilbo's soft skin. He scraped his teeth over what would have been the shape of Pryftan’s hand. When he sucked at the skin Bilbo’s head fell back with a loud thunk on the wall. He bit his lip hard to keep any noises he might make in because pretty much every important member of Thorin’s castle was in the very next room.

Thorin drew back and looked at Bilbo with eyes that were still very wild. “It’s-I” He shook his head and pushed Bilbo against the wall more firmly. He rested his full weight against the hobbit and held him still before going for the skin just under his jaw. He nibbled at the skin there and Bilbo could feel it with each beat of his pulse.

He liked being claimed by Thorin. No-Bilbo l _oved_ being claimed by Thoirn. It was something he could feel in every inch of his body, and he could feel from Thorin as well. It was in the way he would press against every part of Bilbo as though he was trying to merge with him and block him from the rest of the world. It made him feel desired and oddly loved. The thought that someone (Thorin) cared enough about him to want to mark him. To want the rest of the world to know that Thorin had claimed him... It made Bilbo’s neck throb deliciously and left him gasping and shaking against the cool wall when Thorin finally released him.

“It is not enough.” Thorin said with a shake of his head. He fisted his hands and closed his eyes, nearly vibrating with repressed emotion and energy. Bilbo would have gladly given him more but there wasn’t time. They had to be back in the hall in minutes to receive the final blessing from the council for their contract.

Bilbo remembered Thorin’s growled words that morning, the confession he’d said against his lips that had made Bilbo’s blood boil. His hands moved of their own accord and when he blinked he found himself pressing a very surprised Thorin against the wall. He’d pinned the dwarf’s arms against the wall beside his head and Thorin was looking at him in uncertain surprise. Thorin would have to use very little effort to free himself, but it still made Bilbo feel oddly powerful that he could press Thorin against the wall. “Perhaps it’s because the little orc did not realize that _you_ were _mine_.” With those words Bilbo surged forward and pressed his lips against Thorin’s throat. He started with a sucking kiss that quickly turned into a bite when Thorin moaned lewdly. He worked the skin, just under Thorin’s beard and above his collar. It would be visible to everyone and that made something excited and pulsing twist in Bilbo’s stomach. He doubled his efforts and focused on making the mark large and dark. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before today, but he liked it.

Thorin would be bearing a lot more of his marks.

“Ghivashel, Ghivashel, men Bilbo, men âzyungel…” Thorin mumbled mindlessly as Bilbo marked him. The dwarf bucked his hips wildly when Bilbo dragged his teeth over the bruise and Bilbo ground back happily for a moment before pulling his head back to examine his work. It was large and unmissable, already beginning to purple against Thorin’s pale skin. Possessiveness pulsed through Bilbo and he had to lean in and kiss Thorin on his lips. The king was enticing normally, but now, with his hair mussed, his crown titled, his neck marked and his mouth open as he gasped for air, he was utterly irresistible. He released Thorin’s hands and buried one of his in the dark hair that was deceptively soft to the touch. His fingers brushed against the edge of a flower- lilacs today-and he clutched the braid tightly. Thorin did the same with his braid and Bilbo violently lamented that they had to leave.

With an impressive amount of willpower and a little bit of fear at being caught by someone like Fíli or Kíli, Bilbo pulled away. He peered at Thorin and took a large step back. The pale blue eyes were dark with want and Bilbo was only so strong of a hobbit.

“The hall awaits, my King.” Thorin nodded and swallowed thickly before holding a hand out for Bilbo. He took it happily and they started back down the corridor. Bilbo spied Thorin lifting his hand to touch his neck out of the corner of his eyes. The dwarf’s eyes brightened and a slightly wistful, happy look drifted across his face.

-[]-[o]-[]-

There were four days until the wedding and Erebor was getting crowded. Not that Bilbo would have really noticed the additional people as he was always surrounded by at least a dozen guards and three dwarf friends. (Always Bofur, usually Ori and then anyone from his group of friends.) Preparations were being made everywhere for the upcoming ceremony and Bilbo was thoroughly impressed with how quickly the dwarves had managed to put together the wedding. The lady Dís was truly remarkable at planning and organizing.

Now though, he was having to get through the crowd of dwarves and elves-of which there were several. They had three royal elves, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, Lady Galadriel of  Lothlorien, Prince Legolas of Greenwood, and all their servants. Bilbo could not figure out how they were invited to save his life. Apparently the wedding of a King was a fairly large affair.

Still, getting through the arguing dwarves and elves was making him late and he had a meeting with Thorin by the council hall. He wasn’t sure why they were going down there but it probably had something to do with a decoration.

The only thing Bilbo knew was that it would have been utterly impossible to get anywhere without Bifur. The dwarf was charging in front of Bilbo and his guard,  bellowing something out in khuzdul that was making everyone in their way jump aside. They finally made it through the most crowded corridor and headed down the royal bridge that housed the hall with the throne room, council chamber, and banquet hall. There were a few other royal rooms down there but Bilbo never had cause to go into them.

Fíli and Kíli were both in front of the council hall, but they weren’t standing. They were crouched down talking to someone who Bilbo couldn’t see. Something in Bilbo’s chest flipped and he paused. For a moment, he thought he saw a brush of dark brown over Fili’s-

“Can’t be late,” Ori murmured breathlessly and urged Bilbo forward. He went, his feet faltering slightly. Bofur and Ori moved closer to his sides while the guard made a semi circle behind him and stayed put. Bifur stayed with them.

Fíli turned his head to look over his shoulder and beamed at Bilbo.

“There’s the hobbit himself.” A squeal of excitement-painfully familiar- echoed in the tall halls and then the two dwarf brothers were turning aside. An excited bundle of green and brown raced at Bilbo and the hobbit felt the world around him draw to an utter standstill. Each breath he exhaled sounded as loud as hammer fall, and each step of the lad running towards him was louder than the explosion in the mines. The boys face was lit with glee and his blue eyes were wide and as bright as Bilbo remembered. His smile split his entire face and his curls bounced wildly around his face as he bounded over to Bilbo. Bilbo who had somehow dropped to his knees and spread his arms wide open in invitation without ever really realizing he was moving. A sob echoed in the halls and Bilbo didn’t realize it was coming from his own throat until he felt the tears streaking down his face.

The hobbit-lad slammed into Bilbo and wrapped his small arms around Bilbo’s neck as tightly as he could. Bilbo wrapped his own arms around him and surged upward. He held him tight and buried his face in the soft curls, soaking them with his tears as his mouth continually ran. “Frodo my lad, my Frodo. Dear, dear boy. Are you okay? How are you here?” He didn’t understand his own words but he just squeezed the hobbit tighter, a constant pain in his chest easing at the apple and oak smell of his small cousin.

“Bilbo!” Frodo squealed in utter delight. He pushed away enough to look the older hobbit in the eye and Bilbo gave him a happy spin. Frodo giggled and the sound was as wonderful as Bilbo had remembered. “I saw fireworks! And there’s a huge statue that looks like Lobelia, but with a beard and I got to hold a sword and Fíli promised he’d teach me to use one!”

Bilbo looked over his cousin’s head at one of the other dwarves in the room for the first time since he’d seen Frodo. “He did, did he?” Fíli had the graces to look abashed but Kíli beamed.

“And a bow after that.”

“This place is fun!” Frodo exclaimed with excitement that only a child could hold. “Can I stay for a while? The dwarf said I was here for a wedding? Are you getting married, Bilbo?” He looked around before Bilbo could answer. “We have to find Merry and Pippin, they wanted to give you a present. Esmerelda said that only bums didn’t bring gifts to weddings. People like the Sackville-Baggins and that we were not to ever act like them.”

Bilbo laughed and squeezed his cousin in a tight hug. He was still crying-probably like an idiot-but he was so happy. The other dwarves were all beaming and Bilbo felt like he was about to explode from elation. This had to have been Thorin’s doing. Where was the dwarf and the other hobbits? He needed to hug the two boys and give his dwarf a long kiss.

“Right this way, Bilbo.” Bofur said with a large grin and Bilbo realized he’d said at least some of that out loud. He grabbed Bilbo’s arm and lead him toward the banquet room. “I’m Bofur by the way.”

“Frodo.” Frodo replied promptly. He extended his hand and Bofur shook it with a grin. Bilbo set the hobbit on the ground, knowing how much Frodo hated being carried around like a ‘baby’ and took his hand in his own. Kíli grasped the other hand and Frodo nearly bounced with excitement.

“Who sent for him?”

“Uncle, of course.” Fíli said with a smirk. “He sent for them right after we left the Blue Mountains. He had an entire guard accompany them with a few of your cousins and friends.”

“He’s waiting with the other two younglings.” Kíli added. Ori pushes the door to the banquet hall open with a grin and Bilbo walked into the room to find Thorin sitting at the table with Pippin in his lap. The hobbit had one hand clutching Thorin’s beard the other pointing animatedly at something in a picture book laid out on the table. Merry, who was standing on the other side of the table holding a wooden bird, squealed in delight at whatever Pippin was pointing out and dove across the table before scrambling up on Thorin’s other side and making himself equally at home clutching a braid.

Frodo clutched his hand tightly and beamed at his two young cousins and the dwarf. “I like him.”

Bilbo’s heart did something complicated and he was unable to do anything but nod at Frodo. “Me too.”


	19. Visions are Seldom What They Seem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone asked me at the end of my last chapter if I like fanart. The answer is a big resounding yes! If you want to, draw away! I'll post links or the actual artwork (with credit to the artist) here. :) Just give me the link :)

  
_And I know it's true_   
_That visions are seldom all they seem_   
_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_   
_You'll love me at once_   
_The way you did once upon a dream_   


_-Once Upon a Dream (Sleeping Beauty)_

* * *

_  
_   


 

Bilbo woke up, unsure why he was up, and was immediately pushed down by Thorin who was throwing his own body over the halflings. He heard yells coming from the hall and he heard the distinct clang of metal over his head.

“Who goes there?” Thorin called now successfully between Bilbo and the door. He was in nothing but his soft sleep pants and he had Orcrist drawn and held at the ready. Bilbo’s heart pounded fearfully in his chest and his eyes shot to the door across from the bed. The door that lead to Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Saradoc, Esmerelda, Eglantine, and Paladin resided. He half considered flinging himself across the room and standing guard in front of it.

Thorin pushed him back as if he knew what he was thinking. A blast sounded in the outer room and Bilbo let out a frightened squeak. Thorin stood up and strode towards the door with sure steps. Bilbo slipped off the bed as well.

“Stay!” Thorin ordered before taking another step forward. Bilbo ignored him and followed.

“Where is Bilbo? Where is the halfling?” The room seemed to shake around Bilbo and he found it difficult to walk. He didn’t even have time to pull on his night robe before Gandalf burst into the sleep chambers. He was followed by Dwalin and Gloin who both looked like they had been woken from their sleep as well. Thorin stepped back, blocking Bilbo again and shifted Orcrist in his hands. Bilbo vaguely wondered how his dwarf had gotten it so quickly when they’d been asleep mere minutes ago.

“They have found them.” Gandalf said and his tone was something Bilbo had never heard before. It was ragged and full of so much pain that Bilbo half imagined his own heart would break from the simple sound of it. “They have found them.”

“Found who? Gandalf? Found who?” Bilbo stepped around Thorin with clasped hands, desperate to make whatever pain the Wizard was in better. Gloin went to the door that connected the hobbits’ room to theirs and slipped inside without a word. Bilbo relaxed at the fact that they were protected.

“The hobbits-the other hobbits.” Bilbo stopped moving and wrapped his arms tight around himself. He suddenly ached and he still had no idea what Gandalf was even going to say.

“What is it?” Thorin demanded. Bilbo felt him place an arm around his shoulders and he leaned into the comforting touch. Dwalin was walking around the room, clearly doing a perimeter check.

“One of my order, a wizard by the name of Radagast, was surveying the Greenwoods as is his duty. On the borders of the vast woodland lies a fortress of extreme evil. Dol Guldur.” Bilbo exhaled and he could see his breath in the suddenly chilled air and he lamented his lack of robe. An uneasy shiver ran down his spine and he wrapped his arms around himself. Thorin noticed his shiver and tugged him closer. He didn’t let go of Orcrist. He seemed to grip her more tightly if anything.

“Dol Guldur? But that is a ruin.”

“An ancient evil once resided there. Radagast heard in the air a noise like a howl. He sought out the source and found the dungeon that they were detained in. There was evidence of recent visitors, but nobody else was at the ruins.”

“Are-are they alive?” Bilbo could barely make his mouth form the question.

“They are, though they have been much weakened by their captivity. Lord Thranduil of Greenwood has taken them under his care till they have regained their strength.

Bilbo turned in Thorin’s arms and burrowed his face into the warm chest he found there. Thorin kept his arm tight around him and bent his head over Bilbo, cocooning him in.

“Whoever has done this terrible thing will know that they have been discovered soon. We have little time to act and-”

“The prophecy.” Thorin rumbled suddenly with a step back from Gandalf. He tugged Bilbo along with him. “ _ **Howling ghost will reappear.**_ ”

“ ** _In a mountain that is stacked with fear._** ” Gandalf finished. He moved his staff to his other hand, a troubled look on his face. “The time is nearing then. We must act now. Dwalin, have you found all who escorted the hobbits on their journeys?”

“Yes.”

“Their names?”

“Myself, Gloin, Begond, Pryftan-” Dwalin stopped short and his face did a complicated expression of extreme dislike and realization. “Pryftan.” He growled a curse in khuzdul that Bilbo understood just enough of to blush at. Thorin brought his other arm around Bilbo, careful to keep Orcrist pointed away from him.

“Pryftan? Why Pryftan?” Gandalf stepped forward and the still chilled air seemed to crackle.

“He has made advances at Bilbo.” Thorin growled.

“That-that isn’t all.” Bilbo added and earned a questioning look from Gandalf and Dwalin. “He… well… He followed me around the Blue Mountains whenever I was alone or it was just Bofur. He made me uncomfortable so Ori started to join our group.”

“What did he do?” Thorin’s voice held a lace of the deep note that only his dragon could reach. Dwalin shifted the war axe in his hands with murderous eyes. He’d looked angered before, but at the mention of Ori-well, Bilbo would not have wanted to cross him.

“He-nothing… He was just… there. It wasn’t comfortable and it just felt oppressive. Bofur always made it a point to have a knife after the first time he found the dwarf with me.”

“Why was I not told?”

“Because something else always happened afterwards to distract me. First it was the kiss, then the first time I saw you as a dragon, then when Balin brought the news… He came over to Erebor in the second group of dwarves.”

“Dwalin-”

The dwarf was already going for the door. “He’s been sent on patrol. After the feast we gave him the worse duty we could find. I’ll have him brought in.” He paused by the doorway and locked his gaze on Gandalf with a surprisingly intimidating stare for how much shorter he was than the wizard. “Do not let them come to harm.” Gandalf nodded and followed the dwarf to the next room. He started murmuring something that Bilbo couldn’t understand. Thorin turned him around and looked at him. He still hadn’t let go of Orcrist.

“Ghivashel, I am so sorry.”

“I had no idea it was Pryftan… I-I should have…” Bilbo trailed off as Gandalf came back.

“I have put a powerful door close spelling on your chambers. I’ve allowed Dwalin, Balin, Bofur, and yourselves through. Anyone else will have to have one of you open the door.”

Bilbo wondered why he hadn’t done that earlier. “I’ll wait in the outer chamber.” He closed the door to the bedroom leaving Bilbo and Thorin alone. Thorin led Bilbo to the bed and pulled the blanket around his shoulders. He set his sword down and wrapped his arms around him. He murmured in khuzdul and combed his fingers through Bilbo’s curls. Bilbo had no idea how long they sat there before he noticed the fire had died.

Thorin seemed to hold him even closer and Bilbo marveled at how content he could be resting in Thorin’s arms. “Mizimel,” (Jewel of Jewels) Thorin murmured before pressing a kiss to the top of Bilbo’s head. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and Thorin’s strokes were starting to make Bilbo feel sleepy again. “Men mizimel, Zâyungi mênu akhùthuzhur. (my jewel of jewels, I’ll love you for eternity.)” He pressed another kiss to Bilbo’s head and and ran his hand up and down his arm soothingly. Bilbo felt safe and warm and, despite the terror of what had happened to the other hobbits, he felt better. They were alive, they had been found. It was an enormous relief.

"I don’t know what’s going to happen with this… this curse, but I will not let any more harm come to you. I will not hurt you again.I can’t believe you will marry me the day after tomorrow. I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I will try to be the king you deserve. I will try to be the king you see me as. My Bilbo, my beautiful Bilbo." Bilbo shifted against Thorin’s chest and nuzzled his cheek against the thick hair there. He wanted to respond but it took too much effort to form the thoughts, let alone the words.Thorin tugged the blanket so it was around both their shoulders before lifting Bilbo and settling him down in his lap. He held Bilbo close and Bilbo closed his eyes, letting himself be lulled by the sound of Thorin’s heart beating under his ear. He’d be woken up when Dwalin came back with a report. It wouldn’t hurt to catch a bit of sleep while he could.

He knew Thorin and Gandalf would keep him safe.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Bilbo woke up in a warm nest of blankets with smaller hobbits curled up in front of him and a large dwarf behind him. He could hear Thorin talking to someone and it took him a few moments to realize it was Frodo. “Yes, he tamed a real dragon. Quite a vicious thing to.”

“How did he do it?” Frodo asked in a tone of utter wonder.

“He sang to him.” Frodo laughed and gave his head a shake. His blue eyes were wide and dancing with excitement.

“No!” Bilbo felt Thorin nod his head.

“He did. He sang a song about Durin.”

“Ooh, can I hear it?” Frodo scooted closer to Bilbo so he could peer over his shoulder at Thorin. He was careful not to wake his cousins up.

“We have time before we have to leave… I will sing it if you do not wake your cousins.”

Bilbo smiled into the pillow as Thorin’s deep voice sang the words. There was something about his voice that never failed to make Bilbo feel like he was hearing something intensely private and sacred. Frodo felt the same, if his awed eyes were to be believed. It delighted Bilbo to no end how much his cousin had taken to the King. He almost followed him around with a unfading grin and constantly demanded stories and attention. Thorin was quite good with the lad as well. It was obvious he’d had experience with Fíli and Kíli.

The princelings were also quite popular with the young hobbits. They’d already shown the trio where the best playing spots were, and how to climb up on the statues. If the five of them were together, trouble was not far behind.

Merry had taken a special shining to Bofur, and it made Bilbo laugh every time he caught the dwarf teaching him a new drinking song. Pippin followed Ori around like a lost puppy, asking endless questions that the scribe always answered with the patience of a saint. The adult hobbits got along with Dori and Bombur best, which was no surprise to Bilbo.

“Again?” Thorin had finished his song at some point and he had an eagerly bouncing hobbit in front of him. Bilbo had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Peace,” Thorin ordered quietly though Bilbo could hear the smile in his voice. “We haven’t time. I will tell you another story, one about a dwarf who could make rivers of gold flow from the mountain, after we eat breakfast. My father arrives today and we must all greet him. Right, Bilbo.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s shoulder and the hobbit knew he was caught. He grinned and popped his head up.

“It’s a good story, but his majesty is right. We have to get up and ready.” Frodo nodded his head and shook Merry and Pippin up before dragging his cousins into their room to get dressed for breakfast.

“What time will Thrain arrive?” Bilbo asked once the hobbitlings had shut the door. Thorin pressed another kiss to his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist. It was warm and comfortable but Bilbo wouldn’t be distracted. “Thorin?”

“Should there not be a rule about speaking of parents when we are in bed?” Thorin asked as he nudged Bilbo’s hair aside so he could pepper kisses to his neck. Bilbo snorted.

“You’re the one who mentioned him first.”

“Noon.” Bilbo tensed. That was only a few hours away. Thorin pressed a long kiss to his neck and rubbed his hand up and down the hobbit’s arm. “Relax, Sanzeuh.”

“San-” Bilbo shuddered as Thorin ran his foot up Bilbo’s calf. “Sanzeuh? What does that mean?”

“My One. It is what I have named you to the kingdom. It is a bond that dwarves respect above all others. When we wed you will be my equal in all but lineage.” Bilbo rolled on his back to look at Thorin. The dwarf propped himself up on one arm and continued to trail his fingers up and down Bilbo’s arm. “My father will love you, Bilbo. Just give him time.”

“He doesn’t have to love me.” Bilbo dropped his eyes to Thorin’s hair. He wove his fingers through the lock and twisted them around his fingers. “I just don’t want him to hate me.”

“He does not, Ghivashel.” Thorin heaved a great sigh and sat up right. “Come now, Sanzeuh. We have to dress, loathe though I am to release you from our bed.”

“Not yet.” Bilbo countered. Thorin looked over his shoulder right as Bilbo grabbed the brush and hair oil off the stand. “I have to tend your hair, my king. We wed tomorrow. This will be the last time I put a courting braid in your hair.” Bilbo saw his dwarf shiver and it made him feel absurdly proud.  He crawled over until he was directly in front of Thorin, straddling his legs. He began by gently loosening Thorin’s braids, placing the wilted flowers to the side and the beads beside them. He unwove the waved hair and kissed Thorin’s ear when he finished. He could feel Thorin’s smile and the soft look in his eyes made Bilbo breath falter and a dull ache rise in his chest. He wanted to hold Thorin and never let go. He was practically sitting in his lap and he still wasn’t close enough. Thorin’s gaze was always so open and tender when Bilbo tended to his hair.

He started carefully combing the ends and going higher until he was able to comb in long strokes from Thorin’s head to his ends. Thorin’s eyes never left him even as Bilbo shuffled closer to get the back. Once it was combed he applied the oil and combed that in before sitting back down in front of his dwarf.

“Seeing as this the last time I’ll do this braid, I thought this would be the only appropriate thing to use.” Bilbo pulled a vase of flowers off the side of the bed and showed it Thorin who’s smile turned from soft and tender to adoring and fiercely joyful.

“Honeysuckle. Ghivashel, you are too much.” Bilbo chuckled and pulled a section of Thorin’s hair out for the braid. “Well, my love, I have to keep up with you somehow.” He wove the braid without removing his eyes from Thorin’s and when he finished Thorin pulled him tightly to his chest. Then the dwarves mouth was on his, he pulled him closer still and kissed him with joy, and longing, pride, and laughter. It promised a long future of light and love and tender braids. Thorin’s hands refused to stay still, skimming Bilbo’s body and causing the hobbit to gasp with desire.

“Bilbo!” Came a cry from the other room, “I need help with the buttons!” Pippin appeared at the door and the hobbit barely had time to pull back from Thorin.

“Be right there, lad.” He waited until the hobbitling returned to his room before he looked at Thorin again. The King’s eyes were dark and Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat at the desire evident on his face.

“I think,” The dwarf grumbled as Bilbo climbed off of his lap, “we should move Fili and Kili to the chambers next to the hobbitlings. They could be called on that way.”

“Well, there’s always second breakfast.” Bilbo replied with a wink. Thorin fell back with a dramatic moan and Bilbo laughed before he danced to his cousins room feeling light.

-[]-[o]-[]-

When he returned it was to find that Thorin had already left with Dwalin to go check out ‘business’ as the note said. Bilbo didn’t know what that meant but he figured he’d just find out about it later. He dressed and took his cousins to breakfast. They were accompanied by the large guard, Bofur, Fíli, and Kíli. Eglantine and Esmerelda had no idea what to do with the guards, but Paladin and Saradoc seemed fine with them. It was probably because they were always surrounded by other Hobbits on some sort of Business.

He was summoned to the council room after elevensies.

Three council members, Odin, Trumpkin, and Olaf, along with Balin, Dwalin, Dís, and Ori were there with Thorin.

And Thorin did not look pleased. His eyes were murderous and his hand was on his sword hilt. Never a good sign. Bilbo went to his side and took his hand while he waited for someone to speak. Balin took the initiative.

“We have searched Pryftan’s, the worm, chambers.” He indicated the table which Bilbo looked at for the first time. It had familiar paper and a lock of brownish gold, curly hair that Bilbo recognized on it.

It looked like his hair, and he wasn’t certain why the paper was so familiar. Bilbo studied the objects and recognized the gold bead that clasped the hair together with a start. It was one of the first ones he’d warn in his hair before Thorin had gifted him the new ones.

Someone had stolen a lock of his hair? How?

Bilbo suddenly realized where he knew that paper from. He brought a hand to his mouth and tried not to be sick. “He-he was the one that left the note?”

“He also had mining supplies.”

Thorin released Bilbo’s hand and wrapped his entire arm around the hobbit, tugging him back and into his side. His cloak draped around Bilbo’s shoulders and he found it marginally easier to breathe.

“Any news from the platoon sent to fetch him?” Thorin asked. Bilbo didn’t miss the way his fingers were digging into his sleeve. Thorin was doing remarkably well hiding his anger, all things considered.

“Not yet. We will expect news after lunch.” Dwalin answered darkly. He was tightening the straps of his knuckledusters.

“Why was he even here?” Bilbo asked after moment. He managed to keep his voice steady. “He was in Thrain’s favor…”

“That’s why, lad.” Balin replied. “He was elected as Thrain’s delegate for Erebor. The King will not be pleased to learn has been so deceived.”

“I do not care. The Uznâl will suffer a traitor's death.” From the gasp of shock from the council members, and the way Ori went pale, Bilbo guessed that was a horrid way to go.

The door to the council chamber burst open and Nori appeared, looking breathless and rushed. “King Thrain approaches the front gate!”

“We will resume after. Bilbo, Dwalin, Balin, with me.” Thorin swept from the hall, his arms still firmly around Bilbo.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Lunch was tense to say the least. Bilbo hardly said a word through the entire affair and sat stiffly beside Thorin. He couldn’t even enjoy the delicious beef and potatoes that Bombur had prepared. The sick disgust from discovering that Pryftan had cut a lock of his hair while he slept made would not leave him. Thorin kept pleasant conversation but the dark glower he had whenever Thrain wasn’t looking made it clear he was still incensed about Pryftan.

Thrain didn’t seem to pleased about it either.

Bilbo was sent away after lunch, with Dwalin, to see his family till dinner. Bofur tried to distract him with stories for the children.

Dinner faired no better than lunch. Thrain ignored Bilbo’s attempts at conversation eating in stony silence. Bilbo finally stopped talking until the meal was over. He wouldn't have anymore of this. He was about to marry into this family. He’d been threatened and attacked by one of Thrain’s men. He needed to figure out why Thrain’s gaze darkened every time it landed on him. He waited till Thorin was distracted by a well placed Frodo before exiting the hall and following Thrain out onto the balcony. He stood silently by his side and looked at the stars. It reminded him of his first kiss with Thorin. Dwarf subtelty had failed him at that moment. Perhaps it was once again time for Hobbit bluntness.

“May I speak candidly, sire?” Bilbo asked. Thrain regarded him for several long moments before nodding his head slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why do you dislike me?” Thrain looked back out at the expansive city. Dale was beautiful in the moonlight.

“Because you are, to put it candidly, not worthy of my son.” Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that. Bilbo didn’t know how to respond to that. “You are a hobbit, you belong with your people in the Shire. You are a soft race unsuited for the harshness of the mountains and the life of dwarves. You do not have the fierceness of Mahal’s children, and you are of no noble blood. My son has been through enough misfortune in his life without giving his heart to one who cannot protect it. Cannot protect himself. My son is of Durin, and he bears the spirit of my ancestor more than any I have ever known. My father brought misfortune down on our house and my son fearlessly took it on himself.” Thrain turned his head the slightest bit so he could peer down at Bilbo darkly. “He has a strong will but the years have chipped away at it. Now he has named you his Sanzeuh. When you leave, he will not have the will to continue. The curse will have consumed my line.”

“Why would I leave?” Was all that Bilbo could ask. His chest hurt and his vision was blurring from tears he refused to shed.

“Because they always do. No matter how much he comes to admire them, to care for them, they all leave. Even if you are the one to cure him, it would be at the cost of your life. The curse will allow nothing else. Tell me, hobbit. Would you sacrifice your own life for my son to be free of the curse?"

Dale shone in the moonlight. The white marble reflected the luminous light and made the trees that grew around it seem as if they were clothed in the ethereal light. It was truly beautiful. Bilbo liked to look at it at night when his mind felt too crowded. The city worked it’s magic on him right now and helped soothe his mind even while his heart felt like it was being squeeze till it burst.

Eloquence had never been Bilbo’s strong point, but he’d try. As much as Thrain’s words cut him, they also reassured him. This was a dwarf that loved his son. “I know you doubt me, and I know you think me unworthy of your son. You are quite right. Thorin is far above me, he is practically in another world. He walks among heroes in legends, and is of a lineage that I could never match. I’m just a simple hobbit. But I love him. And for the love I bear him, I will do anything.” Bilbo glanced down at the quiet city and listened to the sound of the wind on the mountain. “It is said that great heroes are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser people to light the flames-whatever the cost. I could not be more honored to be allowed the task of lighting his flame. Even if it was with my own life.” He looked at Thrain again and imagined that it was an older Thorin he was looking at. A Thorin that would rule Erebor justly and lead the people into a prosperous age unlike any other. “Thorin doesn’t need me to be great. He’s stronger than anyone-even he-believes. If it comes down to it, and I have to die for him to be free and the curse to be destroyed then I will do so gladly.”

“You are full of surprises, Master Baggins. Perhaps you will be a good match for my son.” Thrain didn’t look at Bilbo as he spoke, but his tone was softer. “Only time will tell.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of plot covered in this chapter and, shock horror, the prophecy has begun to come true! 
> 
> I'm going to go ahead and tell you that you are going to figure out what is going on with Pryftan, the Arkenstone, the Hobbits, and, of course, the curse, in the next chapter or two. We're actually really close to finishing this mammoth story.


	20. Kill the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a LONG chapter. A whole lot happens in it. If, at the end, you're still confused I'll answer any questions. We only have two more chapters after this and then my story will be done.

  
_We don't like_   
_What we don't understand_   
_In fact it scares us_   
_And this monster is mysterious at least_   
_Bring your guns!_   
_Bring your knives!_   
_Save your children and your wives_   
_We'll save our village and our lives_   
_We'll kill the Beast!_   


_-The Mob Song (Beauty and the Beast)_

* * *

_  
_  


Thorin laying on Bilbo’s chest was one of the Hobbit’s favorite sensations. While he enjoyed spreading out on top of Thorin, it wasn’t as perfect as having Thorin on top of him. Thorin was a heavy, warm, solid force that weighed him down onto the mattress and made him feel tethered to the world. Like he wouldn’t just float away. It was solid and reassuring.

It felt safe.

He could feel the faint puff of Thorin breathing against his skin and Mahal help him he didn’t want to get up and face the day. He got to marry Thorin today, hopefully, but there was a promise of danger in the air.

They hadn’t heard anything from the platoon yet. Pryftan was still out there and Bilbo had no doubt that the dwarf would try something. Not to even mention the prophecy. Supposedly the curse would be lifted today, but at great cost. Bilbo didn’t want anything to happen to Thorin.

“Ghivashel?” Thorin’s sleep heavy voice broke the silence with a puff of breath. Bilbo ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair.

“Yes?”

“What time is it?”

“Past breakfast.” Thorin sighed and stretched which moved him off Bilbo’s chest.

“We have to go…” Thorin trailed off before a faint smile lifted his lip. “We marry today.”

“We’re still planning on five, right?” Thorin nodded his head, the tender smile still on his lips. His eyes were soft with adoration and Bilbo thought the warmth that look always made him feel would never fade away. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t.

“I give us three minutes before the door opens and someone tries to drag me away.” Thorin said after a moment. he pushed himself up off Bilbo’s chest and hovered over the hobbit, mischief glinting in his blue eyes. “And I intend to make the most of them.

Thorin didn’t even reach Bilbo’s lips before there was a knock. The curse he muttered was so inventively colorful that Bilbo couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Sorry, Majesty, but you have to greet the court and make ready for the festivities.” Balin’s wry voice sounded on the other side of the closed door and Bilbo had to fight another laugh at the scowl on Thorin’s face.

“Right. I’ll be out in a minute.” Thorin turned his gaze back on Bilbo and pecked his lips with a quick kiss before he climbed off the bed.

“What was that?” Bilbo demanded as Thorin trodded over to the the wardrobe.

“A kiss, Ghivahsel. I should think you would recognize one by now.”

Bilbo huffed and  put his hands on his hip.  “I hardly think that counts as a kiss. This is the last I’ll see of you before we exchange vows. That is what you want our last non-married kiss to be like?”

Thorin didn’t even pause as he shuffled through the wardrobe for a comfortable tunic. Balin would take him to the royal taylor for a  completely new outfit so he didn’t have to get dressed in all his normal finery. “No. I fully intend to have you once more before we’re married.”

Bilbo flushed slightly, very much aware of his undressed state. “But-” he spluttered, annoyed at himself for still getting embarrassed even after all they’d done. “There isn’t time!”

Thorin looked pulled the shirt on and turned around. Bilbo watched the muscles in his legs as he turned. “I wasn’t talking about now.” He said simply. He trailed his eyes over Bilbo’s chest with a predatory grin.

“Then when?” He managed not to fidget under the heated stare and he was quite proud of himself. Thorin shifted back on his feet and crossed his broad arms over his chest. It hitched his tunic up a bit, revealing his impressive thighs.

“You get out of your final fitting at twelve, no?” Bilbo nodded. Thorin’s grin was toothy. “Mine is at one. I think that shall be sufficient time to thoroughly debauch you, Ghivashel.” Thorin turned back to the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of soft pants. Bilbo watched him tug them on with a smile. He slipped out of bed silently and crossed the room without making a single noise until he was directly behind Thorin. The dwarf finished fastening his pants and turned to say something else to Bilbo when the hobbit pushed forward and wrapped Thorin up as tightly as they could. He pressed a hard kiss to his lips. Thorin inhaled sharply against his mouth and returned the kiss deeply, possessively. He broke away after a moment and they held each other, catching their breath, Thorin gathering Bilbo close to him with a happy sigh. Bilbo kissed his neck, humming a bit as Thorin tugged their bodies as close as possible, his hands roaming all over Bilbo's body, as if to make sure he was real. Bilbo sighed at the warmth and contentment, at the blissful pleasure he was consumed with when wrapped up with this dwarf. He traced lazy patterns across Thorin's chest, nosing along the underside of Thorin's jaw

Balin knocked again and this time it was Thorin laughing at the look on Bilbo’s face.

-[]-[0]-[]-

It happened at 1:30. Bilbo was going to the garden to rest for a bit before he was due for more paperwork. The hobbits would be waiting for him and he was feeling delightfully warm and happy. Bifur, Nori and his small squadron of guards (all of whom he now knew the name of) were escorting him. They had just made it outside the castle.

Bilbo would never forget the way the sky looked. It was completely white, like the calm before a blizzard. The air was still and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. No birds singing, no animals moving. It was all silent.

Something turned in his stomach. A sick, gut wrenching, twisting sort of feeling that nearly made him bend over. Nori placed a concerned hand on his shoulder right as someone at the castle gate bellowed out in khuzdul. The guards swarmed around him faster than he could blink and he found himself being escorted back into the castle. He was taken straight to his quarters and locked in with Bifur, and Nori.

The horrible feeling in his stomach had worsened, filling him with dread and a dull sense of panic. He had no idea what happened. Bifur sat beside him while Nori manned the door. “What-”

“I don’t know. That was attack protocol.” Nori stated with barely a glance. His star shaped hair was falling out and he had his ear pressed to the door. His hand was splayed out across the stone, almost as if he was feeling it for something. Bilbo’s heart was in his throat and he felt positively ill.

An attack on their wedding day… It had to have been against Thorin. Where was he? Why had Bilbo not been told anything? He knew, without at all knowing _why_ he knew, that Thorin was in danger. Whatever the alarm had been, it was because of Thorin.

Bilbo could hardly breathe around the pain in his chest. It vaguely reminded him of the moment when Dwalin had called out Frodo’s number. The blinding terror that one he loved would be in mortal danger. It had made him act that time. It had lead to him ripping the paper out of Frodo’s hand and yelling that he had the number. Now there was no way to act. He couldn’t do anything but sit still and hope that someone came with news.

The first person to arrive was not who Bilbo expected. They had been there an endlessly long time, no one speaking. Nori was peering through a crack in the door when his brow suddenly furrowed and he pulled the door open. He stepped out of the room and pulled someone in past the guarding dwarves. Bilbo instantly recognized the intricate braids. “Dori?”

“They’ve got Ori!” The dwarf cried out before enveloping Nori in a frantic hug.

“Men nadshar inùdoy?” (My cousin) Bifur barked as he rose from the bed. A wild look lit his eyes and he hauled his bear spoar closer. Bilbo gasped for breath, the burning in his lungs intensified and his eyes watered for need of oxygen and at the panic flooding his system. Ori and Bofur had been with Frodo. They were escorting the hobbitling to see Saradoc and Esmerelda.

“Taken as well,” Dori brought his hands to his hair and pulled at the braids, despair evident on his face. Nori looked utterly speechless and Bifur looked berserk.

“Why-”

“The King is gone as well! They stole our brother to get at Frodo.” Dori bellowed, the sound full of heat and air and louder than Bilbo would have thought the normally reserved dwarf could make. He screamed into the air before turning and ramming his fist into the stone wall. The noise it made on impact was impressive, and Bilbo watched in shock through his blurry eyes as a large chunk of the _stone_ fell off. He’d known Dori was strong but Mahal!

Though, he would probably do something similiar whenever he found Pryftan.

Amazingly, hearing that Thorin was indeed gone didn’t make the panic or pain worse. It just confirmed it. It seemed to solidify in his gut. A pulsing, twisting ache that he would not be rid of till he could hold his lover and his cousin in his arms again. Bilbo swallowed and the vice around his lungs loosened slightly. He would hardly be of any use incapacitated on the bed. He needed to get control of his body and _think_.

“Why have I been confined?” Bilbo finally asked. His voice didn’t waver and that made him feel stronger.

“I-” Dori shook his head and shook his fist out. He glanced at Nori who raised one of his braided eyebrows. “I don’t know. I was with the taylor when I heard that they had been taken from Óin. He was headed to Dwalin.”

“Why? More worry curled up in Bilbo’s gut which was amazing because he hadn’t been aware he could feel more worry.

“He’d been shot… something about morgul-”

“Dol Guldur.” Bilbo closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. The room seemed to grow cold again.

“U’urs binublûr?” (Did the fire go out?) Bilbo listened as Bifur stalked across the room to stoke the still blazing fire.

“Will he be alright?”

“That remains to be seen.” The door pushed open and Balin, Glóin, and several guards pushed in.

“Galabâû!” (speak!) Bifur stood up from the fire and hefted his borespear with dark eyes.

“The King was attacked outside of the hall of Thrain. The attacker shot his guards with morgul arrows.” The slight flex of Balin’s jaw was the only sign of his anger, outside the steel in his eyes. “They subdued the King- I do not know how- and have taken him away. Your cousin, Ori, and Bofur were near the library when they went  missing. Their guard was killed.”

“Guard? They always had five.” Dori whispered. He blinked and a look of intense hate took over his features. “They were betrayed?”

“Aye. It looks that way. It seems Pryftan had more allies than we were originally aware.” Bilbo felt oddly removed again. He didn’t really understand what was happening anymore, and his emotions felt oddly distant. He was shutting down and there wasn’t time for that.

The guards were shuffling about, moving objects and peering in the wardrobe as though they were looking for something. Bilbo found it annoying. He wasn’t hiding Thorin, Frodo, Bofur, or Ori in his room.

“They will be found.” Glóin swore before leaving the room. His footfalls echoed down the corridor towards the royal wing. Bilbo wrapped his arms more tightly around himself and closed his eyes. He wanted to be held. He had to be strong, but he didn’t know how much longer he could be strong. All that he cared about was gone. Taken from him. He felt so numb and worn out. Like a cloth that had been wrung out of all the water it had. Or butter scraped over too much bread. He was thin and useless and utterly incapable of stretching any further.

“Bilbo?” Balin’s voice was tentative in the worse way and it just seemed to solidify the fact that Thorin and Frodo and Bofur and Ori were gone.

“Yes?” His eyes slipped open as he spoke but he didn’t recognize the emotionless, dull tone as his own. It was only the fact that he could feel his mouth moving that even let him know he was talking.  Balin didn’t say anything he simply held his hand out. Bilbo stared at the fist for a moment, uncomprehending until he realized Balin had something to give him. He held his own hands out, palm up, and felt Balin drop two small, cool objects onto his hand. Balin drew his hand back and quickly left the room.

They were Thorin and his wedding bands.

The numb feeling shattered and the pain it had been holding back flowed in. He pictured a life without Thorin standing beside him, without Frodo smiling at the most simple things. No Bofur laughing or Ori frantically trying to record every word being spoken. A dark future without light where he returned to the Shire and spent the rest of his days locked away in Bag End, trying to never remember what joy he had once known.

Bilbo bowed his head and wept.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Gandalf came by two or so hours later. Bilbo was curled up on the bed around Thorin’s pillow. It smelled vaguely of the King and it was the only thing that kept Bilbo from feeling like he was going to simply break apart. Dori and Nori had left in search of clues and Bifur had remained firmly seated in front of the door. He only moved when Gandalf opened the door and issued him some order in khuzdul that Bilbo didn’t bother to decipher.

“We haven’t much time.” Bilbo clutched the pillow tighter and buried his nose in it. He didn’t want to look in Gandalf’s eyes and see the truth reflected in them. Thorin’s time was running out. They only had today to cure him. “And we have much to discuss.” The Wizard sat beside Bilbo and nudged him until the hobbit was partially upright. “Before we can save Thorin I need to explain the final details of what is occurring. I will not allow you to attempt to destroy the curse without understanding what the risk is.”

“Tell me what I must do.” Bilbo demanded. His fingers found their way into his pocket and he stroked the rings there. The metal was skin warm and he could feel the delicately carved runes in it’s surface. The runes that spoke of their love and the union that would bind them together even beyond death.

“The heart of the mountain.” Gandalf started with no further ado. “That was what the Arkenstone was. The original maker of the stone created two in it’s like. They were the most beautiful and beloved of all gems. And as such, they garnered a fierce jealousy in all who beheld them. One, a being whose name I shall not utter in these halls, was of an evil unlike any other who has walked our lands or the lands beyond. He coveted the jewels and stole them for himself. Then, fearing another taking them, he put on them a terrible curse and hid them away from everyone. One in the sky, one in the sea, and one in the heart of a mountain.”

“The Arkenstone.” Gandalf nodded and the sadness in his eyes seemed to deepen.

“The evil being was defeated by the bravery and sacrifice of countless heroes. It is a long tale and one that I shall not go into at this time. Though he was defeated and banished from this realm, never to return until the ending of the world, not all the evil he wrought was undone. The Arkenstone is an example of his residing evil. The curse he  placed on the stone remained, through negligence or by design is unknown.”

“And Thrór found it’s resting spot.” Bilbo murmured. That was horribly bad luck. Though, Thorin’s family seemed to have very poor luck in general.

“By unearthing it, Thrór activated the curse. The moment it was moved it cursed all who would possess it till their death. Thorin, as you know, fought against that fate. He called me and I tampered with the curse. I moved the heart of the mountain-the arkenstone-from it’s original form. I gave it’s curse to Thorin Thrainson.”

Bilbo waited for the Wizard to continue uneasily. He already knew most of this. He wanted to know where Gandalf was going with it.

“A curse of such power can not be tampered with in such a manner without sacrifice. Thorin sacrificed the remainder of his life, and any of his direct descendants, to bear the curse until the heart was returned to the mountain.” Gandalf held Bilbo’s gaze. His light eyes were so full of knowledge and responsibility and aching pain that Bilbo had a hard time maintaining the contact.

“So what happened to the Arkenstone? It disappeared with the curse…”

Gandalf shook his head. “No, it changed form. The heart of the mountain is the heart of the curse. The curse became Thorin.”

“So what are you saying? Thorin’s a curse?”

“His heart _housed_ the curse.”

“Housed?”

“Precisely. His heart was where the power of the curse resided. ” Gandalf nodded his head and stood up without another word. “Rest now, Bilbo. We will find Thorin soon.”

Bilbo watched Gandalf leave the room in speechless confusion before he sank back on his bed and closed his eyes. He had no idea what to make of Gandalf’s words. So that was normal at least.

-[]-[o]-[]-

It was Bilbo’s wedding hour. He could hear the deep gonging of the hourly bell that signified it was five. It was getting dark in his room as the sun drew closer to setting. It was hitting the built in skylight barely now. The last rays of the day. They slanted at a sharp angle and cast their light across the edge of the bed and nightstand.

Bilbo had left the bed a while ago and Bifur had left to fetch him something to eat. Not that Bilbo had any taste for food. He’d eat solely to keep his strength up. Not for enjoyment.

A glitter of light in his peripherals caught Bilbo’s attention and he turned his head to see what it was. A single silver bead was sitting on top of a slip of paper that had not been there that morning. Bilbo stepped towards it, unaware of the floor beneath his feet, unable to feel the fingers he stretched towards the bead. It was a large one that Bilbo had handled every day for a long time now. One he knew intimately and would recognize anywhere.

It was Thorin’s bead. He could see the symbol of Durin on it, reflecting the waning sunlight off the thin silver runes. He slipped the bead in his pocket, next to the rings, and took the slip of paper up. It was the same quality and type as the one that had been stabbed into his door not so long ago.

_Follow the line to the place it began. Come alone and unarmed if you want your family to live. Otherwise, they will all burn together at sunset._

_-Pryftan, True King Under the Mountain_

A small map was drawn underneath it with a red line that led into the mines. Deep into the center of the mountain.

No. To the heart of the mountain.

Pryftan was leading Bilbo to the place where it all began. He dropped the letter with a gasp and stepped back. His hand trembled and his other hand slipped into his pocket and brushed against slick metal. He glanced at the skylight and bit his lip. There was hardly any time. He had to decide what to do now.

There was nothing to decide. He’d go, of course. He just needed to be sure that Bifur would know where he went incase… Well, he needed to know so that he could save the King and Frodo if the worse should happen.

Bilbo set his sword on the bed and and took off his vambraces. He pulled off the leg guards and hesitated after removing Fíli’s throwing axe. He peeled his tunic off and looked at the mithril that clothed his chest. Thorin would be furious with him, but he couldn’t risk Pryftan finding it and using it. No, he’d leave it with the sword. Bilbo lifted the mithril off his chest and set the beautiful suit of rings on the bed next to the other pieces of armor and weaponry.  

His hand slipped back into the pocket that Dori had hand stitched into his tunic and he took the rings in his hands. He was meant to have given them to Thorin in a few  minutes time. If life had been a bit less cruel, he might have had the chance.

He didn’t know why he felt so foreboding. They had an entire kingdom looking for the King, Frodo, Bofur, and Ori. It was very likely that they would be found, and that they were already near them.

Bilbo just didn’t feel like he was going to make it to the end of the night. The prophecy echoed in his head like a sentence of doom. He just hoped he could save the others. He’d meant what he said to Thrain. He’d gladly die.

Bilbo went to the door and pressed his ear against it. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side. He pushed it open as slowly as possible and saw ten guards talking to eachother. None were looking at the door and Bilbo took the chance their momentary distraction gave him. He tiptoed a few paces away. Turned around very slowly and then ran for all he was worth down the rest of the hall. He heard someone shout behind him but he didn’t stop. He took the servant passageways, and didn’t stop. He had the benefit of only wearing a tunic and breeches and not the heavy armor that the guards were in. He was also a Hobbit, and Hobbits were remarkably light on their feet.

He didn’t stop till he reached the mines, using the shadows of the quickly darkening hall to hide whenever there was another dwarf.

There were two dead dwarves at the entrance to the mines. Bilbo checked them for a pulse and resolved that Pryftan would not see the end of the day. He’d only been in here once, with Ori, to see the spot where they’d found the Arkenstone. He’d hoped it would help him cure the curse. The grey door that blocked the cavern was cracked open. The final barrier between Bilbo and whatever had happened to the ones he loved. He stepped forward and heard a sharp sound, like rock grating against rock. He looked down to see the edge of a gem under his foot. He moved his leg and saw that the gem was long and thin, coming to a tapered end. Daggerlike. Bilbo bent down and took it up without really knowing why. He tucked it in his pocket without knowing why he was doing it, and stood up.

He slipped into the room with his heart in his throat and his blood pounding in his ears.

Uproarious laughter greeted him, and it turned Bilbo’s stomach while letting him know he had come to the right place. “See, what did I tell you, Thorin? The hobbit comes! Go to your would-be King, hobbit!” Bilbo walked down the long staircase until he could look into the nearly empty cavern properly. A terrible tightness claimed his chest and he thought, for a moment, he was going to be sick. He took everything in the room in quicker than he’d ever taken in anything before, but it felt like an infinitely long time. Pryftan was standing in red robes a few feet to the right of the entrance. He had a sword drawn and pointed at a small pile of people that were surrounded by five other dwarves. Those would be the traitors.

He could see who they were guarding and it made something harden in his stomach. His resolve turned to steel, unbreakable. Frodo was clutching Bofur and the dwarf had him pressed to his chest as tightly as he could. Ori was trying his best to block the hobbit from seeing what was going on. The cries of his cousin broke something in Bilbo’s heart, but he steadfastly kept moving forward towards the figure in the center of the room.

It was his King.

Thorin was completely bound by chains-mithril, unless Bilbo was mistaken-and he was gagged with a scarlet cord. His hands were tied behind his back, joined to his legs so he couldn’t stand. His head was tilted back and Bilbo could see the straining muscles in his neck. Thin trails of smoke curled up around him, dissipating in the air. The mark of the curse coming into effect. The doom of Thorin.

The curse that was housed in Thorin. He could hear Gandalf saying the words earlier, so clearly intending for Bilbo to understand and realize why it was important that Thorin’s heart housed the-

_Oh._

Bilbo crossed over the scaffolding easily. Each step seemed to strengthen his resolve and move the panic further from his mind. He understood it now.

“Do you see?” Pryftan roared, his voice half mad. “I have bettered you, Beast! All that you care for will come to ruin, _by your own hands_! Go to him, halfling! Let him look in your eyes before he burns you.”

Bilbo rolled the wedding bands around in his pockets. They were such simple little things, but they held such power. So much promise. A lifetime of happiness if they were on the right person’s hand. On Thorin’s hand it would hold so much joy. He stepped forward unafraid. The prophecy replaying in his head with ancient power.

_**The Heart will grasp the golden band...** _

“I understand now,” Bilbo said aloud in the language of the Shire so that Pryftan wouldn’t know what they said. And he did understand. He understood the sadness in Gandalf’s eyes and why only Thorin’s One could save him. The Arkenstone, thrice damned stone that it was, was the heart of the mountain. It had been cursed that none should move it from its home lest they suffer a terrible fate. Thorin, for his grandfather, had taken that curse upon himself. The curse on the heart of the mountain moved to the heart of Thorin. Dwarves loved once. They gave their whole hearts to the One, and could never take them back.

The true heart of Thorin was no longer the one that beat in his chest.

It was clever, so terribly clever, on Gandalf’s part. Bilbo certainly would never have thought of it. He almost wondered if this had been the Wizard’s plan from the very beginning. With Bilbo’s act the curse would have no where else to go. In returning to its home, it would be destroyed. It made so much sense. It had to be a Hobbit. It could only ever have been Bilbo. Could only ever have been the one person in Middle Earth that could have Thorin’s heart.

Thorin struggled against his bonds even more wildly as Bilbo’s words cut through the air. The hobbit wished he could comfort Thorin, but he knew it was in vain. He could already see the red tint forming on Thorin’s fair skin. The change was imminent. “I understand,” he repeated, “and I’m not sorry. Whatever happens next, Thorin, I am not sorry.” He slipped one of the gold bands on his finger-it was too big but there was nothing for that. They’d never had a chance to size them- and pulled the other one out. He crossed the room to his dwarf without blinking. “Know that I love you, and I give all I have gladly. Please look after Frodo for me.” Pryftan moved closer behind him and Bilbo drew the stone out of his other pocket. It was utterly cool to the touch and felt smooth and steady. Bilbo locked eyes with Thorin and tried to find the words for what he wanted to say before the end. The crystal blue he loved so much had turn gold but they were still his dwarf’s eyes.

“I am so honored to have been chosen to be loved by you. You took my lonely Hobbit heart and taught me what it meant to find my Kurduel (heart of hearts).”

Bilbo grasped Thorin’s chained hand in his own. The calloused fingers gripped his own tightly and then Thorin’s head was snapping back and his skin felt like molten metal. It hurt but that wouldn’t matter in a moment. Thorin struggled and lowered his head to look at Bilbo. His eyes were wild and panicked and full of so much pain. They were almost solid gold, but they were still Thorin’s and that was all Bilbo needed.

_**And pass by holding fire’s hand.** _

“The heart has to be returned to the mountain. It’s the only way to be rid of the curse” Bilbo tightened his hand on Thorin. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore and he didn’t want to think about how horribly burned they were. He could hear Frodo crying behind him and he prayed that Bofur and Ori were covering his eyes. “And you have given me your heart.” Bilbo slipped the ring onto Thorin’s finger and watched it melt into his skin. “Men zatâgrîf menu u men akhùthuzh.” (I take you as mine forever.)

With those words, the final vow of their marriage, Bilbo gripped the white gem and pressed the briefest of kisses to Thorin’s lips. “And the heart has to be returned to the mountain.” Bilbo whispered.

Understanding dawned in Thorin’s eyes and he turned truly manic as he thrashed wildly. He released a truly inhuman and unholy, sound of pain. Bilbo clenched his eyes and thrust the shard into his own chest and fell on top of his lover. A truly staggering pain flashed through his body. Panic tried to take his mind but it couldn’t gain a foothold as Bilbo slumped against Thorin.

_**Pierced by stone that will not bend.** _

His Ghivashel. He did this for him. For Frodo, for Bofur, for Ori, for all the Hobbits that had been taken. He would die without fear and without regret.

Thorin roared for him and his chest shook with the strength of the sound. It was like hearing the breaking of a heart. The wet warmth spreading across Bilbo’s chest seemed verbalized by Thorin. Bilbo hated that he was hurting him so much, but it was the only way. Thorin would go on this way, and live free of any curses. Fili, Kili, Dis, Thrain, Dwalin, Balin, Bofur… they would all help him continue. They would keep him strong and together where Bilbo could not. Saradoc, Esmerelda, Paladin, Eglantine, Hamfast, they would all take care of Frodo. He trusted that Ori and Bofur had kept him from seeing anything and would keep him safe till the others arrived. Bifur would have found the note by now.

Bilbo’s eyes slipped shut as his limbs grew numb. He couldn’t feel the tacky warmness against his chest any longer. The pain in his breast seemed distant and unimportant now. He was vaguely aware of Thorin screaming beneath him, of Bofur and Ori shouting his name and Frodo crying, of another gruff voice shouting his name, but it felt as if he was hearing it through water. Something wrapped around him tightly and his hand burned.

And he knew no more.

_**Returned to home the curse will end.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feel free to ask me if anything did not make sense.
> 
> Also, for anyone who didn't know, Pryftan was the original name Tolkien had for Smaug.


	21. If I Could Break the Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which I write from Thorin's perspective. It's odd to not write from Bilbo but I can't exactly use him right now.

  
_Far longer than forever_   
_I'll hold you in my heart_   
_It's almost like you're here with me_   
_Although we're far apart_   
_Far longer than forever_   
_As constant as a star_   
_I close my eyes and I am where you are_   


_-Far Longer than Forever (Swan Princess)_

* * *

Thorin _burned._

The curse ran through his veins in anticipation at the change minutes away. Frodo's cries rent the air and made the fury in Thorin's blood run all the hotter. He would do more than merely kill Pryftan when he was free. He would show the dwarf what the true meaning of pain was. The evil doer would fear to even breathe by the time Thorin was through. Him and all who had betrayed the line of Durin to the madman. He would make of them an example that all in Middle Earth would understand.

They had taken him without warning, swiftly while the guard changed. Dwalin had fought like a monster, but the poison the arrow carried had subdued him. Thorin had taken out a large number of Pryftan's loyal men before the evil dwarf had shown up.

He'd held a knife to Frodo's throat and Thorin had surrendered himself.

"You really think I would allow you to be king?" Pryftan waved his sword through the air with a disturbingly high-pitched laugh. "I who have served in the court my entire life? I have more right than you-you usurper!"

The man had noble blood in him, else he would not be a knight, but Thorin could not understand why he thought he had a right to the throne. Thorin was the heir to Erebor, followed by Fili, Kili, and then Dain. Even Balin would be eligible for the throne before Pryftan.

A crack sounded on the other side of the door and Thorin paused in his struggle. The fire burned in his mind but he pushed it back. He would not allow it to consume him yet. He had to hold back the flames, for the sake of Frodo, Bofur, and Ori. If it cost him his sanity, so be it. He would not see the others injured while he yet had breath.

And then Bilbo was in the room and Thorin despaired.

Bilbo walked towards him with determination and complete disregard for the mad dwarf cackling behind him. His eyes were firm with quiet courage and he seemed to glow with golden light to Thorin.

“Do you see?” Pryftan roared, his voice echoing in the cavern. “I have bettered you, Beast! All that you care for will come to ruin, by your own hands! Go to him, halfling! Let him look in your eyes before he burns you.”

Fool! Thorin would never kill Bilbo. Even his dragon understood that the hobbit was his heart. It wasn’t Bilbo he was holding the change back for. Even now the dragon was like a terrible itch under his skin. A constant scream in his mind for Bilbo that said: MINE.

Bilbo smiled softly and moved his hand to his pocket. He slipped his fingertips inside and stroked something in them.

It was so hard to concentrate. The fire raged through him and promised to reward Pryftan with pain if Thorin would just let go. Bilbo would be safe, it promised, if he only let the beast loose.

“I understand now,” Bilbo said in the tongue of the Shire The sound of his voice broke something in Thorin and he thrashed like a condemned man. He felt his shoulder wrench out of his socket but he still fought for his freedom.

“I understand,” Bilbo repeated, still coming nearer “and I’m not sorry. Whatever happens next, Thorin, I am not sorry.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and something glinted in the lamp light on his finger. Thorin’s eyes were too clouded to make out what it was. Bilbo was near now. Almost close enough to touch. “Know that I love you, and I give all I have gladly.” He spoke the words quietly and then he was kneeling in front of him. “Please look after Frodo for me.” Pryftan moved closer behind Bilbo and Thorin’s eyes drifted to the dwarf. He drew up short and something akin to fear crossed his face.

Thorin was losing the fight to change then. Good. The puny dwarf should fear him. He would feel the flames.

Thorin looked back to Bilbo and fought to understand. Everything was burning and he wanted to be free. To tear and rage and burn everything that would dare to harm him or take his Bilbo from him.

“I am so honored to have been chosen to be loved by you. You took my lonely Hobbit heart and taught me what it meant to find my Kurduel.”

Bilbo grasped Thorin’s chained hand in his own. He struggled to make his fingers work, to tangle his fingers around the thin fingers of Bilbo. A crackling pain shot up his spine at the contact and his head snapped back. For a horrible moment he thought he had failed and that Bilbo would be burnt to a crisp but the moment passed and Thorin exhaled. He lowered his head and looked at Bilbo in the strange tunnel vision that always happened right before he changed. Bilbo’s hair shone, each golden strand almost too bright to look at. It was a sign of the dragon. He saw gold far more clearly than even a dwarf eye could.

“The heart has to be returned to the mountain. It’s the only way to be rid of the curse” Bilbo whispered against his ear as if he was sharing a secret. The Shire words slipped from his tongue in beautiful, lilting syllables, similar to singing. It suited the creatures of joy and life.

Thorin’s mind was starting to slip from the struggle.

“And you have given me your heart.” Bilbo slipped something (a ring, a small part of his mind supplied) on Thorin’s finger and he knew it was important but he couldn’t think-couldn’t feel. Everything was fear and fire and rage and pain and he needed to destroy and possess and protect. “Men zatâgrîf menu u men akhùthuzh.”

Thorin’s heart stopped in comprehension of those khuzdul syllables. They were ones he had dreamed of hearing Bilbo speak. He had hoped to hear them this very day.

Bilbo’s hand glinted and Thorin looked down to see him pull a shard of some light stone from his pocket.

_**The Heart will grasp the golden band,** _

_**And pass by holding fire’s hand.** _

_**Pierced by stone that will not bend,** _

_**Returned to home the curse will end.** _

Understanding, intense and terrible flooded Thorin and he met Bilbo’s eyes to see quiet resignation there. He lost control of his body and bellowed his horror for the world to hear. This mountain had stolen all from him, it would not steal his heart. It would not steal his Bilbo.

Bilbo’s eyes clenched shut and his hand moved too quickly and yet infinitely slowly. He brought the point to his chest and with a breath, he stabbed it home. He sat still for an eternity, his blue-green eyes slipping open and meeting Thorin’s. Nothing in the universe moved for a heartbeat.

And then Bilbo fell on to his chest and his blood soaked through Thorin’s tunic.

The heat claimed Thorin’s mind. The chains that bound him grew red hot and Thorin was surging upwards. He roared with a sound that was torn from every fiber of his being and wrenched his hands free from the molten chains. He brought his arms around to scoop the bleeding hobbit to his chest as a loud explosion echoed near the door. He was blown to his back and Bilbo was sent with him, still plastered to his chest. He pushed himself up so that he was sitting and pulled Bilbo as close as he could.

He knew he should be worried about the blast. He should care and go to keep something-someone? Safe. It was important, so terribly important, but he couldn’t move. Bilbo’s blood coated his chest and arms and Thorin would never move again.

The eyes that had first caught his attention at a banquet table, and had continued to mystify and bewitch him body and soul, clouded and looked up without seeing him. Bilbo had always seen him, even before he knew who Thorin was, even when he was a dragon, Bilbo saw him. _Bilbo saw Thorin._  Always. The unknowing eyes blinked once, and then slipped shut.

Others had joined in with his shouts but Thorin didn’t care. He had no care anymore save to destroy him that had stolen the only treasure Thorin cared about. The treasure of all treasures. His Ghivashel.

Thorin held Bilbo to his chest with one hand and took a trembling breath. He welcomed the curse to take his body over. Pryftan would _burn_. He would intimately understand the meaning of agony. The pain that was now flooding Thorin's own chest. He lowered his mental barriers, and threw his head back.

Nothing.

No fire. No change. No pain as scales erupted and his body broke to change it’s form. No consuming fire, rage, jealousy… Nothing.

Thorin closed his eyes and focused on the fire in his blood, begged it to take him over to no avail. The dragon would not come.

It wasn’t there. There was only rage and hate, no dragon.

“THORIN!” The word was shouted right next to his ear, and it made Thorin’s eyes spring open as his arms wrapped around his most precious treasure possessively. They would not take Bilbo’s body from him. He would destroy any who even tried. Pale eyes stared back at him from under bushy, grey eyebrows. “Confound it all, give me the halfling! I may save him yet!”

“Gandalf?” The world felt strange on Thorin’s throat, and his voice was nothing more than a thin rasp of pain. The Wizard didn’t wait for a response. He took the hobbit-he took Bilbo- from Thorin’s arms and laid him on the ground. Thorin made a pitiful, heartbroken sound that would have ashamed him at any other time. He scrambled to grab hold of Bilbo again but he was stopped by four hands. He struggled against them-not recognizing his nephews at all- until he had no strength and had to slump into their hold.

Gandalf had his hand over Bilbo’s face and his other was on the hobbit’s chest over the wound. He was muttering frantically and seemed to be growing larger. Another two bodies brushed past Thorin and dropped to their knees beside Gandalf, and Thorin discovered that he had some strength left after all.

He surged forward, taking the dwarves who were holding him back by surprise and lunged for the glowing high-elves. They would not take him. Thorin would die before he let them take Bilbo.

A loud thunk sounded behind his ears and pain shot through his head, and then he knew no more.

-[]-[o]-[]-

Thorin watched numbly as the body was carried away. His eyes burned and his throat was raw. His entire body felt like a bruise, the pain of which congregated in his heart. He could still feel the ghost trails of blood that had trickled down his fingers from where his bonds had cut them. Someone had tried to bandage the wound but he’d shaken them off. He hardly mattered right now. He could still feel the warmth of Bilbo’s blood on his chest, and the fading warmth of his Sanzeuh in his arms.

His first memories of waking were hazy at best. He’d been taken to the healing ward next to Dwalin.

 

_He’d panicked for a moment as it seemed utterly impossible to breathe. He’d scrambled off the bed, tugging at his tunic for air, and then he’d seen the covered body. He could not bear it. Could not bear to see his beloved laid out for death._

_Before Thorin knew what his legs were doing, he was out of the room and stumbling through the corridors. A roaring like the river in spring echoed in his ears, and when a guard called his name, he barely understood it and gave the dwarf no notice. He groped at the wall unseeing until he could move no further. He pressed against the wall and sunk to the floor and then collapsed, curled in upon himself. His hand went to his throat and pressed against the fading mark Bilbo had given him at their wedding feast. He could feel a faint flare of pain at pressing the bruise, but he cherished it. It was all that he had left of his Ghivashel._

_He couldn’t weep._

_He laid still in a strange blackness-not unlike the disconnect and blank of the curse. At that moment, he would have gladly welcomed the roaring inferno of the curse. He existed without thought or hope. Just an encompassing and consuming void of despair._

_He sat still for an endless time. When he finally did open his eyes it was to see that Dís had joined him at some point. She had Bilbo’s mithril shirt in her hand and Thorin reached for it without a word. She handed it over and Thorin took it reverently. He pressed his face against the cool metal and inhaled the scent of his hobbit. Flowers and cinnamon, and just a hint of earth._

_He sank weakly back against the wall, and he found his tears. He found a wellspring the size of the Sea of Rhûn. He wept without care for who would see him. He remembered every moment of his life with Bilbo and locked each precious moment away deep in his heart where they would never be forgotten._

_He wept for the future he had glimpsed that very morning, the future with his Bilbo. He wept for Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and all the hobbits who would not have their cousin to show them how to sneak an extra snack and plant a flower so it would flourish in mountain soil._

_And finally, he wept for himself. For the love he would never again hold and the eyes he would never get lost in again. He gasped at the force of his sobs, harsh things that tore his throat, and he did not notice Dís’ arm around him._

Wails could be heard down the hall. Mourning hung heavily in the air.

“Kurduabad… You will make it. You are strong.” Thrain’s heavy hand rested on Thorin’s shoulder but he hardly noticed it. Kurduabad. Mountain’s heart. That had been the name his father affectionately called him since he was a dwarfling.

Odd, as the mountain’s heart had been what had cursed his line.

The hobbit laying in his arms snuffled and rolled his head so that he was nuzzled against Thorin’s chest. Thorin lifted a hand to brush his dark brown curls back. Frodo was warm and so soft. Not like his cousin had been. He’d been cold.

 

_“I know,” Dís murmured into his hair with a kiss. “It was a terrible thing.” She pulled him closer and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. Thorin would have laughed if he’d had anything in his chest left to spare._

_Was a terrible thing. Was. As if the rest of his life had not lost all color and appeal. He would live in a dreary, grey world until he died. He could only hope that Bilbo would join him in the eternal halls. He was doomed to live in a lightless void until he could see his beloved on the far green shores under a swift sunrise. Bilbo would be clothed in flowers and glow with light. His hobbit should only ever be represented with life and light._

_Dís took his hand and brushed her fingers against his. There was a dark mark where Bilbo had slipped the ring on his finger before he murmured his vow. Thorin could vaguely remember the metal melting into his skin. Now it looked a bit like a brand. “We’ll have to get you new wedding bands, I’m afraid.”_

_Thorin blinked at his sister. She was never cruel, yet she insisted on pressing into his open wound. “Why?” The word hardly sounded real, it was filled with so much pain and despair._

_“Because you don’t have one now, and Bilbo’s was damaged terribly in the fire.”_

_It made no sense._

_Dís studied his face and then gasped. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and her blue eyes filled with tears. Thorin hadn’t seen her cry since she lost her husband, nearly sixty years ago. It was only fitting that Bilbo would bring the strong dwarf to tears. Only he deserved them. “Oh-Mahal! You don’t know, do you?”_

_“What?” Dís clung to Thorin and trembled._

_“Bilbo’s alive.”_

“Mind if we join you?” The door opened and Bofur slipped in with Merry and Pippin. Frodo shifted in Thorin’s hold again before exhaling and stilling.

“Is Bilbo up yet?” Merry asked. Pippin sucked on his thumb and stared up at Thrain with wide eyes. The dwarf looked back down at him unsurely.

“He’s still with the healers.” Thorin answered. “They’re mending his shoulder. We’ll be allowed in as soon as they’re finished.” Merry nodded as if he agreed and tugged Bofur towards the other chair in the room. Pippin remained in front of Thrain with a curious look. He grinned slightly before moving his thumb out of his mouth and spreading his arms up and wide in the universal child symbol of ‘pick me up.’

To Thorin’s amusement, Thrain did. The hobbitling squealed in delight at being lifted up and immediately took hold of one of Thrain’s braids. He pointed towards the window and babbled about birds. Thrain took him over to look out the window.

Thorin did not miss the smile on his father face.

He held Frodo a little closer and contented himself to brush the unruly curls back while he waited to be allowed to see his beloved. The wails from the hall continued, mourning for the guards lost in Pryftan’s betrayal, but inside the small healing room, Thorin had hope.

-[]-[o]-[]-

“Get Bombur!” Bilbo called out to the retreating healer. Thorin’s heart beat hard in his chest and he found it extremely difficult to draw in a breath. Bilbo was out of surgery, and apparently awake. Though why he was calling for Bombur, Thorin had no idea. “I’m starving!”

And that explained it.

Óin had given him permission to go into the room. He was allowed to see his hobbit. He just couldn’t seem to get his feet to move.

He was terrified.

He’d not been allowed to see Bilbo since he’d woken up two days ago. He’d been in healing with the elves (who Thorin would thank later, regardless of how much he hated them) and then surgery. He knew that Bilbo was alive-and he’d just heard his voice-but he was still terrified to go into that room. He couldn’t bear to see that it wasn’t true. To see that Bilbo wasn’t actually there. Or that he had been injured.

Thorin would not be able to bear it.

“Thorin? Are you-they said you were out there…” Bilbo’s voice was quiet and lost and Thorin’s legs remembered how to move. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was a bed at the far end of the room, facing the window. The curtains had been drawn back to let sunlight in and the smell of flowers permeated the air. They were gathered in vases all over the room. Thorin had sent for a bunch of them, but other dwarves had brought some as well.

On the bed a small figure sat against the pillows with the blanket over his legs. He had a simple white tunic on that showed just the edge of a bandage around his neck. His skin was lightly flushed and his golden curls fell around his face in disarray, braid free. A smile spread across his face the moment Thorin walked into the room. And Thorin nearly fell to his knees when the blue-green eyes met his.

“You are alive.” Bilbo’s grin broadened and he nodded his head. He opened his arms and Thorin ran to them. He didn’t stop until he was kneeling beside Bilbo’s bed. The urge to touch him was almost all consuming, but he didn’t want to hurt Bilbo.

“Can I-are you?” He raised a hand, trembling, to Bilbo. He stretched his fingers and paused.

“I won’t break.” Bilbo raised his own hand and pressed his palm against Thorin’s. He was warm and soft, and so very alive. The touch broke a reserve in Thorin and he was climbing up on the bed next to Bilbo so he could wrap the hobbit in his arms. He pulled him close, mindful of where his injury was, and buried his head in the soft curls. They were still fine and silky and smelled of cinnamon and light.

“Men Ghivashel.” Bilbo sighed contentedly and snuggled closer.

“Åzyung.” Thorin closed his eyes and leaned back, letting Bilbo rest on his chest. They would talk later. For now, just holding him would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone really think I'd kill Bilbo? I've grown attached to him (after all, he and I have had over 70,000 words together.) That was literally the only reason I had the elves come for the wedding. xD 
> 
> I really considered not posting this until Monday, but I'm not _that_ cruel.
> 
> *winks*
> 
> And we've got one more chapter. If there is anything you want to see let me know and I'll try and include it in. Also, I'll answer any questions you have :)


	22. Epilogue: Through Faith and Hope

_Certain as the sun_  
 _Rising in the east_  
 _Tale as old as time_  
 _Song as old as rhyme_  
 _Beauty and the beast_  


* * *

 

The first time Bilbo woke up, properly, it was to find himself surrounded by beautiful people and pale light. He’d blinked in confusion and looked around in an attempt to get his bearings.

“Quel andune.” (Good afternoon.) One of the beautiful people with brown hair said. He was very familiar but Bilbo’s fuzzy brain didn’t quite feel up to figuring out why. He leaned over Bilbo and smiled, his brown eyes brightening. “Lle ume quel.” (You did well.)

The other beautiful person, a bit younger than the brown haired elf (Bilbo felt proud for remember they were elves) stepped forward. He was blond with blue eyes and wore green clothes. “Lle tyava quel?” (Do you feel well?)

Bilbo blinked and nodded his head. He opened his mouth only to realize it was extremely dry. He ran his tongue over his lips and found them chapped. The blond elf turned to a table and came back with a pitcher. “Lle anta yulna en alu?” (Do you need a drink of water?) Bilbo took the cup he poured eagerly and drank it down in one go. The water cooled his throat and Bilbo felt his brain finally start to work.

He remembered the cavern and the prophecy and his cousin. He remembered Thorin. Panic gripped his chest and he jolted forward. He gripped the sheets and looked up at the glowing faces. “Iqista… Massë?” (Please...where?)

He couldn’t think! What was the elvish…

“Ah, I see our Hobbit has finally awoken. Thank you, Lord Elrond, Prince Legolas.” The two elves stepped back with a bow and Gandalf stepped up to the bed.

“Gandalf! Where is Thorin and Frodo? Are they okay? What happened?” Gandalf gently pushed Bilbo, who had half risen off the bed, back into the pillows.

“Rest, halfling. Your cousin and dwarf are safe. You were very nearly lost to us, but you had some strength in you. Though, had I not had Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel’s aid, I do not think you could have been saved.”

Bilbo’s mouth open and closed several times in confusion. Gandalf apparently recognized that because he sat beside Bilbo on the bed. “Bifur found the note mere minutes after you left. He found me and sent me after you. I took Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel with me as there are no greater healers in Middle Earth. Still, you were nearly gone by the time we arrived and I feared the worst.” He relieved Bilbo of the empty cup and passed it to Legolas to refill it.

“Bifur, Gloin, Fili, and Kili took care of the traitors and subdued Pryftan.” He continued once Bilbo was drinking again.

“So...I’m alive?” Bilbo couldn’t really understand how that worked. He was supposed to die so that Thorin was free. If he was alive…

“Yes, Bilbo.” Gandalf’s eyes were soft as he spoke. “And you were successful. You broke the curse on Thorin. He is free from the dragon’s call. The Arkenstone has been returned to the mountain.” He patted Bilbo’s hand one final time before standing up. “Rest now. There will be much to do later and you will need your strength.”

-[]-[o]-[]-

Much to do started with sleeping and healing. Bilbo spent nearly a week in the ward before he was finally allowed out. Which, considering he had tried his very best to kill himself, was actually quite quick.

Now he was following Thorin back to the cavern where the curse had started.

“Are you sure you feel well enough, Ghivashel?” Thorin’s hands twitched towards Bilbo and the hobbit couldn’t help but snort.

“I’m fine, Thorin. And don’t even think of picking me up.” Thorin had barely left his side since he’d been allowed to see him. He’d hardly recognized his dwarf when he first saw him. He’d been unnaturally pale except for the mark Bilbo had placed on his neck. It was dark and blotchy, as if it had been pressed hard recently. Bilbo hadn’t asked about it but he was fairly certain Thorin had bruised himself. The haunted look was just beginning to leave his eyes, and Bilbo was determined to get rid of it and make sure it never reappeared.

“I wasn’t going to.” Thorin pouted. Bofur and Ori repressed a snicker behind them and Bilbo tried not to grin too widely. He took Thorin’s hand in his own and ran his thumb along the back of his hand. He brushed over the dark mark on his ring finger and felt a flutter in his heart.

The mark from the ring hadn’t faded. If you looked close enough you could even read the runes that had been on the band. Gandalf had said it was a final mark of the curse. Bilbo saw it as more of a testament of love. One that Thorin seemed quite happy to wear.

The cavern was quiet this time, and there was no insane laughter. Still, walking inside made Bilbo shiver and he was glad for the warmth and strength of Thorin’s hand. Gandalf, Thrain, Elrond, Galadriel, and Balin were already in the room waiting for them. They were in a semicircle around something that shone brightly on the floor.

Bilbo and Thorin both drew to a complete stop. Bilbo didn’t have to ask what the gem was, and it was clear by the utter horror on Thorin’s face that Bilbo’s assumption was completely right.

“Is that-”

“The Arkenstone.” Gandalf nodded his head and Thorin tugged Bilbo closer. He went willingly. “It was renewed in the gem you stabbed yourself with.” He eyed Bilbo with a smile. "That is why we were able to bring you back."

That was really a bit much.

Bilbo took a small step forward and it freed Thorin from the stupor the sight of the gem had put him in. He gave Bilbo’s hand one final squeeze before going to join the others in a circle. Bilbo stayed behind with Bofur and Ori. He had absolutely no desire to see it closer. The gem was utterly evil, no matter how brightly it sparkled.

“The Arkenstone.” Thrain breathed as Thorin stepped towards the gem. “What will we do with it?” Thorin’s head snapped up.

“Destroy it.” The two elves shared a look and Thorin’s eyes narrowed. “It is the only option.”

“It is one of a kind.” Thrain countered.

“What are we going to do with it?” Bilbo mouthed breathlessly as the two dwarves continued to argue. The elves were discussing something with Gandalf. Thrain’s eyes were already lighting with a familiar fire. One Bilbo had seen all too often in Thorin’s golden eyes.

Bilbo would not have it. None of it. He would be done with this now. Whatever the penalty, Bilbo would not allow this evil to continue existing. He was rather surprised no one else had already destroyed it. He turned and took three carefully measured steps to Ori. He reached for the war hammer the dwarf kept at his side. Dwalin would be pleased. If he couldn’t be there to protect the dwarf (it took a while to recover from Morgul poison, even when you were attended by high-elves) he’d want his hammer to do the job.

“May I?” Ori nodded his head, understanding lighting his eyes and a timid smile lifting his lips. Bilbo hefted the hammer up and felt thankful for his months of sword fighting. They had done wonders for his upper body strength. He wouldn’t have been able to do this before he came to the Blue Mountains. He walked back to where the two kings were standing. They were still arguing and it made Bilbo sick. Thrain had edged closer to the gem. Thorin had moved further away from it. He refused to even look at the stone and Bilbo didn’t blame him. If anyone was to have the right to do what he was about to, it should be Thorin. Bilbo wouldn’t risk handing the weapon over. He didn’t want to give Thrain time to understand his plan less the madness get the better of him and he try to steal the accursed stone away.

With a careful exhale Bilbo steadied his feet. He locked eyes with Thorin, then, in one heave, he lifted the hammer over his head and brought it down with all the power he could muster. His chest sang out in pain and he blocked it, putting his weight behind the motion. The hammer connected with the gem and the sound of it shattering echoed through the entire cavern. A flash of light immediately followed and Bilbo found himself, Gandalf, and every dwarf gathered around the gem, being thrown back. He collided hard into Ori and it took him several long minutes to find the air to roll off the poor dwarf and push himself up. Everyone else around him was doing the same with varying grunts of pain and confusion.

“Yes,” Gandalf grumbled as he pushed his hat up off his eyes. “Excellent idea, Bilbo. Though you might give us a warning next time?”

Thorin threw himself back on the ground and let out a laugh full of exhilaration and freedom. Bilbo closed his eyes and listened to the sound as he breathed.

“It’s gone.” Thrain whispered, almost mournfully.

“Yes.” Bilbo declared to the ceiling. “And we are glad to be rid of it.” Thorin continued to laugh at the liberty that the destroying of the stone had finally brought him. Bilbo smiled and counted himself content.

-[]-[o]-[]-

“Are you sure?” Bilbo stared at the dwarf in front of him with a mouth that wouldn’t quite shut and eyes that were a little too wide. Thorin grinned knowingly and removed his sword. He set it carefully against the side of the bed where it could easily be retrieved if he needed it in the night. It had alarmed Bilbo the first night he left it there, but now he found it comforting.

Thorin walked up to Bilbo, distinctly lacking any clothing other than his smalls, and cupped his jaw. He pressed a hard kiss to his lips. His tongue slipped past Bilbo’s lips and the hobbit’s toes curled. He pulled away the barest touch and whispered ‘I trust you, Ghivashel.” Before placing one last silky kiss against Bilbo’s lips.

Then he crawled backwards on the bed, settled back against the pillows and raised his eyebrows at Bilbo. He waited a moment before spreading his legs open in invitation.

Bilbo lost the few seconds of time between standing beside the bed to being over Thorin, naked. The dwarf looked up at him with mischievous eyes and Bilbo was helpless to stop the hungry noise he made before dropping down and taking his lips in a kiss. He licked softly into Thorin’s mouth, arms braced on either side of Thorin’s head and finger’s threading into the dark hair.

Thorin shuddered underneath him, pinned and helpless against the way Bilbo was moving his body against the dwarf's. Thorin moaned into Bilbo’s mouth and the hobbit rewarded the noise with a quick nip at his jaw. While Bilbo enjoyed being marked, Thorin _loved_ it. Bilbo suspected it had something to do with his near death, but he hadn’t asked yet. Thorin wasn’t able to keep his hips from rocking up into Bilbo and it made him feel powerful. He was the only one that could make the dwarf lose his control. The only one Thorin ever let see him without control.

 _“Bilbo…_ ” Thorin’s voice was thick and hesitant, and his blue eyes were so dark that Bilbo had to draw back and breathe. The king fisted the sheets and closed his eyes. Bilbo trailed kisses down his chest, paying special attention to his nipples and the skin around his hip bone. Thorin gasped and his hand came up to grasp the back of Bilbo’s head. He tangled his fingers in the hair there and pressed the hobbit closer. "Bilbo, Mahabrûf!” He pressed a small bottle into Bilbo’s side and gasped at the bite Bilbo left him with.

He sat back on his heels and dragged his hands down Thorin’s chest. He loved touching Thorin. Thorin moaned again and mumbled a string of khuzdul that gave Bilbo a ridiculous idea. A crazy idea that would make Thorin lose his mind. One that would make Thorin’s first time on bottom very memorable. He’d been practicing khuzdul after all, he might as well make it useful.

He very carefully uncapped the oil and poured a little bit on to his fingers. Thorin widened his legs and grinned lasciviously.  Bilbo decided he wanted to put the look of rapture back on his face. “Thorin,” he murmured. He placed a hand on the sheet and trailed his oiled finger down Thorin’s chest. “Men mizimel. Menu men kurdu.” (My jewel of jewels. You’re my heart.) Thorin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little. “Thorin, umenu zirikh men imidukh.” (Thorin, do you want my fingers?)

“Mahal…” He breathed out. Bilbo slipped his finger inside and leaned forward to whisper.

“Osan, men Bilbo.” (Nope, I’m Bilbo.) Thorin gasped and Bilbo moved the digit and loosened Thorin up, unable to hold his smile back. Thorin had fingered himself on one very memorable occcasion but they’d never gotten further. Thorin’s eyes met his and they were full of trust and so much desire That Bilbo nearly lost himself.

“Yothur,” the king finally managed, and Bilbo did as told. He inserted another finger next to his first one and pumped them in and out slowly before scissoring the digits. He tried to remember everything that Thorin did. He stroked his chest with his free hand and continued to talk.

“Menu men lukhud.” (You’re my light.) He stroked the inside of his thigh and shifted the angle of his fingers. He pressed up, right into-

Thorin thrashed and nearly ripped the sheets off the bed. His eyes snapped open and locked on Bilbo. “Mahal? What was that?”

“Gamut? Zirikh yothur?” (Good? Want more?) Thorin nodded frantically and widened his legs. Bilbo leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He slipped a third finger in and went back to the gland. Thorin couldn’t stay still. He moaned openly and twisted the sheets in his fist. His legs trembled and he couldn’t hold his head still. Bilbo watched him with wide eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady. Thoin was gorgeous. “Menu nalekh umen, Thorin. Men zirikh menu uogamad.” (You’re so beautiful to me. I want you so badly.) Thorin pushed his hand away and frantically reached for the oil. He poured some on his own hand and Bilbo groaned, loudly, when the dwarf took him in hand and slicked him up. He locked eyes on Bilbo.

“Tashfat.” (Faster.) He ordered. Bilbo shuddered and tried not to lose himself. “Zatagrif men.” (Take me.) Thorin tugged him close by the shoulder and growled. “Ekurik.” (Hard.)

Bilbo gasped and pulled back. He held Thorin’s eyes in his and lined up. His chest tightened and he had a really hard time breathing. He wanted Thorin so much but he was unbelievably nervous. It had been all fun teasing up to this point, but now he was about to take Thorin. What if he was terrible?

Thorin took his hand and Bilbo found his courage again. He slipped forward slowly-

and promptly lost his breath again.

Thorin was gasping beneath him and Bilbo couldn’t do anything but ‘ah!.’ He was finally fully in. Bilbo’s hips stuttered and he was sucking in air but it didn’t help the overwhelmed feeling and he was _inside_ his Thorin and they were together and Thorin was making a deep noise in his throat.

“Yes,” Thorin  moaned. “Now move.” Bilbo laughed, unable to help himself and let his body do what it wanted to do so badly. He moved his hips back before pushing slowly back in. He tried to keep a slow steady pace as his hand went to find Thorin. He braced himself with his other one and tangled his fingers in Thorin’s hair.

“Zirikh men zatagrif menu ekurik, Thorin? Zatagrif menu obuzun?” (Want me to take you hard Thorin? Take you till you can’t walk?)

Thorin gasped and squirmed and tried to rock his hips harder against Bilbo’s thrust. Bilbo got the hint and moved faster. Thorin’s head fell back against the pillow and his hand reached to grasp Bilbo’s buttocks, pulling him close. “Touch me, Bilbo,” He pleaded desperately.

Before Bilbo got the chance to, Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s hand and brought it down between his legs. Bilbo started stroking in time to his thrust, as well as he could. He bit his lip and moved his weight to his arm so he could touch Thorin’s face. Thorin gripped his shoulder, digging his fingers into the muscle.

A particularly urgent moan from Bilbo had Thorin’s thighs gripping hard around his ribs and the hand that was not clutching Bilbo’s shoulder was tangling in the sheets. Thorin’s skin flushed, and his strong face contorted in ecstasy and he was coming.

Bilbo’s hips stuttered and he couldn’t hold himself back. He thrust wildly and buried his head in Thorin’s neck. He kissed blindly at the skin and let himself get lost in the slick heat of his lover. “Mimizel…” He murmured.

“Ghivashel,” Thorin replied in an utterly breathless voice and Bilbo saw stars.

Afterwards Bilbo found that his muscles were shivery, the sweat on his back was cooling, and Thorin’s hands had coaxed him down and to his chest. He brushed the dwarf’s hair back and listened to Thorin’s heart pound beneath his ear.

“Who taught you that khuzdul?” Thorin mumbled after a long moment. Bilbo laughed and snuggled closer.

“What Balin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

-[]-[o]-[]-

The next morning the halls seemed quiet. Thorin was dressed in his full regalia, including his sword, axe, crown, jeweled cloak, and armor. He made his way down the Hall of Thror with his head high. Bilbo still found himself breathless each time he saw Thorin dressed as king. He’d known from the moment he saw Thorin, from the very beginning, that the dwarf was of royal blood, and that he was a warrior of obvious honor but it was still humbling to see it so evidently.

The trial had been surprisingly intense. There had been plenty of witness-Bilbo included-and the dwarves guilt was obvious. There was no question what their sentences would be.

Every eye in the very crowded hall was on Thorin as he took his place upon the throne. Bilbo was in the royal section, sitting next to Thrain. Fili and Kili were at his other side and he felt safe. He’d nearly suffered a panic attack when Pryftan had first approached the stand, but with the comforting presence of the other dwarves, and Gandalf who sat behind him, Bilbo felt secure.

Once Thorin was seated a herald stepped forward and blew a trumpet that filled the hall with a deep, echoing note. “Let the prisoner be brought forth!” He bellowed once the sound faded. The doors at the back burst open and Bilbo pointedly kept his eyes on Thorin. His facade was exceptionally fierce, and Bilbo had no doubt it was to mask the rage he felt. He could see how tense his fingers were against the throne. Jeers instantly filled the hall, along with khuzdul curses that Bilbo now mostly understood. He agreed with their sentiments. Pryftan and his fellow conspirating dwarves were led before the throne.

Once they stood their Thorin raised his hand for silence. He regarded the dwarves carefully before speaking again. “Pryftan, son of Glaurung, having heard the evidence brought forth, I now pronounce sentence upon you and your conspirators.” He stood slowly and unsheathed Orcrist at his side. The hall was utterly silent and Bilbo found it a bit hard to breathe. Thorin considered the blade and for a moment Bilbo was certain that the King he loved was simply going to stab the dwarf and be done with it. The moment passed and Thorin raised his sword.

“Pryftan, son of Glaurung, I sentence you to a traitor’s death. Tomorrow at dawn you will be hanged until near death. You will then be emasculated, disemboweled, beheaded with a blunt axe, and finally, quartered. Your remains will be burned at all corners of the city as a warning to all others who would consider betraying the line of Durin.”

Then, without another word, Thorin swept out of the hall and left the dwarves to their fate. Bilbo slipped from the royal section, grinning slightly as Gloin followed him discreetly, and made for the King’s chamber beside the throne room. He knocked once and the door was opened before he could even remove his hand. Dwalin smiled and slipped outside, shutting the door.

Bilbo walked towards the chair and desk at the far end. Thorin was sitting down with a tired look and Bilbo just wanted to wrap him up and kiss the frown away. “Ghivashel,” he murmured as soon as Dwalin was gone.

It was funny how much hearing Thorin speak could still make his heart flutter. It was a familiar feeling, one that bubbled up from his toes to the top of his head and left him light. He made his way to Thorin’s side quickly and took his hands in his own. “You handled that quite well.”

Thorin grinned wryly. “You could not tell that I wanted to cut the head from the cur myself?”

“Or that you were thinking of dipping him in molten metal first.” Bilbo pecked Thorin’s nose with a quick kiss before hopping up and sitting on the desk. “Do I need to attend the execution?”

Thorin traced the runes embossed on Bilbo’s breeches and shook his head. “No. And none will make you.” Thorin had sent an invitation to the other Hobbits but they had declined the offer as well. As much as they all despised Pryftan, hobbits did not care for death. They would never disagree with the sentence, but they didn’t want to watch it. They were due to start their return journey to the Shire the following morning.

It only seemed fitting that it would be at the same time that Pryftan met his end. The dark chapter of his control of their lives was finally closing.

Thorin sighed. “I have to go to another meeting.”

“Then I’ll await your return in our bed.” Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo and rested his head in the hobbit’s lap. Bilbo’s hands automatically found their way to his hair and he massaged the scalp as well as he could. He knew the trial had been hard on him. Dwarf’s were possessive, and Pryftan had tried to take everything from Thorin. It amazed Bilbo that the king had done such a good job remaining neutral.

Thorin caught and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s wrist. “I had to sit through _three hours_ of council members arguing a pointless case. I had to sit on a very hard chair and it was not comfortable. Everytime I moved I was sure they would know what you did to me last night. And then I had to stand before the dwarf that had tried to kill you with a sword in my hand and I was not allowed to behead him.” Thorin’ met his eyes and Bilbo felt a familiar curl of excitement in his chest. “I am not going to the meeting. Fili will take my place today so that I may tend to my intended.” He stood up and looked down at Bilbo with a grin that made it clear what he intended to do with his newly found free time.

-[]-[o]-[]-

There were flowers everywhere. It was a little funny that that, more than anything else, was what stood out to Bilbo. The wedding was a combination of both races traditions, and it made Bilbo’s eyes water just to look at the beautiful scene. They’d set it up in the Hall of Lights, which lived up to its name beautifully. The ceiling was aglow with sunlight and it reflected off the columns and onto the floor making the entire room glow with faint light. The flowers filled the air with the scent of the Shire and Bilbo had to blink to even be able to see.

Not that he’d been able to see much today through his constantly teary eyes. He hadn’t realized it was possible to be so happy.

At the end of the hall there was a stone canopy carved into the shape of trees that they would stand under in a moment. Thorin was already there, waiting only for Bilbo to join him. He gripped Bofur’s arm more tightly and tried to blink his eyes clear one more time.

“I’d offer you a handkerchief, but you know I never have one.” Bofur whispered as they made their way to the canopy. Thorin had his head bowed in reverence and Bilbo ached to see his eyes. He hadn’t seen him for nearly twelve hours.

He looked beautiful. He didn’t wear any of his normal jewelry, even his ear cuff had been removed, as per hobbit tradition. When Hobbits wed they wore no jewelry or precious ornaments. It was only their wedding clothes and the rings. It showed that they were marrying for each other, not possession. It seemed only fitting with Thorin’s station.

He wore a jewel bright blue tunic that was delicately embroidered with runes of promises, and words of love in the Shire language. Bilbo was similarly clad, though his words were promises and his runes were of love. They finally reached the front, Thorin looked up, and Bilbo quite forgot what breathing was.

 _His eyes._ Bilbo had never seen those eyes full of so much emotion. Bilbo’s own emotions were far too large for his body, which was the primary reason he could hardly see. His chest felt tight and his fingers tingled with the force of having to contain the love he felt for this dwarf.

Thorin reached his hand out and Bilbo took it without hesitation. Balin asked a question in khuzdul-Bilbo’s mind was far too fuzzy to make out the syllables, let alone decipher them-and Bofur replied. He gave Bilbo’s arm a final squeeze before stepping back and joining the others. Ori shot him a thumb up from his spot beside Dwalin. His hobbit cousins were nearly bouncing in their seats, and Fili and Kili were doing nothing to calm them. The other hobbits, all seated with their own families, were in a special section. They were healing, and were doing well living with their families again. The had been brought to Erebor with a full honor guard. Dwalin and Thorin had handpicked each of the dwarves that escorted them.

Bilbo turned to fully face Thorin and the dwarf did the same. Balin said something else, which Bilbo tried very hard to understand, but his brain didn’t seem to be working quite properly, and Frodo stepped forward with the rings. Thorin had been a bit unsure about trusting him as the ringbearer but Bilbo had assured him the lad was up to the task.

Thorin took one of the gold bands and waited for Balin to give the order. Balin spoke and Thorin lifted the ring to Bilbo’s finger. “Men zatâgrîf menu, Bilbo, umen akhùthuzh.” (I take you, Bilbo as mine forever.) He slipped the smooth metal over Bilbo’s finger and let his fingers rest on it for a long moment before he retracted the hand. Bilbo exhaled, his entire body trembling in exaltation. Balin repeated the words and Bilbo took Thorin’s ring up. It felt heavy in his hand and he found it extremely hard to hold his hand still.

He lined the ring up with Thorin’s finger and met his eyes. “Men zatâgrîf menu, Thorin, umen akhùthuzh.” (I take you, Thorin as mine forever.) Thorin exhaled and Bilbo slipped the ring on his finger. Tears welled in the dwarf’s eyes and a look of astonishment drifted across his features. Bilbo left his hand on Thorin’s for another beat before withdrawing.

“Mahal utonvu ze, okarak.” (What Aule has joined, let no one separate.) Balin declared. “Menu zukhel gandid namim.” (Now with a kiss seal you oath.) Bilbo would never be able to tell who moved first, but he met Thorin’s lip and it felt like they promised forever.

“I now present King Thorin Thrainson and his Royal Consort, Bilbo Baggins.” They stood up, Bilbo’s hand firmly held in Thorin’s hand, and they turned to face the crowd.

He wasn’t quite sure how they got to the Banquet Hall. He only knew that he was standing beside his _husband_ , holding his _husband’s_ hand.

“Will you dance?” Thorin asked, his voice barely more than a rumble. Bilbo nodded, staring at eyes that couldn’t stop shining with love. Thorin’s smile turned softer, more tender and he ran the back of his finger along Bilbo’s cheek.

“Then I offer my services, such as they are.”

Later there would be feasting, celebrating well into the night, and endless dancing. Bilbo would whisper in Thorin’s ear and they would head to their chamber for the night and following day. Later Thorin would whisper oaths in khuzdul and Bilbo would weave a flower crown for Thorin full of promises for their future.

But for now… For now Bilbo took his husband’s hands and smiled.

* * *

  
_It's the Circle of Life_  
 _And it moves us al_ l  
 _Through despair and hope_  
 _Through faith and love_  
 _Till we find our place_  
 _On the path unwinding_  
 _In the Circle_  
 _The Circle of Life_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. I love writing elves. Elves have a complete language which a bunch of lovely people have already made phrases for. I don't have to figure out how to make words or what their grammar is. Honestly, dwarves, why couldn't you be a bit more free with your language?
> 
> Yes. I made Frodo Ringbearer. I giggled the whole time I typed it.
> 
> Thank you to SarahAlex for asking for the bottom!Thorin moment. I'd written it for the story but forgot to put it in. Also, I can now apparently do dirty talk in khuzdul.
> 
> So, having now completed my whorl-wind story, I have just a few things to say. One, thank you all for reading! Seriously, you made this so much more fun. This idea was burning up inside me refusing to leave me alone until I wrote it. I did not expect more than a handful of people to read it and you have all blown me away. You guys are the best. Seriously. Each kudo left me grinning and talking with you lot via comment has left me giggling more than once.  
> I had so much fun writing out my crazy twist on the Hobbit and Silmaril's and making my own little universe. Reading all of your thoughts on it made me grin so hard my face hurt. I'm loaded with ideas now for new stories. Which I'll probably have posted soon because writing is about the only thing that keeps me sane.
> 
> Second. Kudos to each and every person who writes khuzdul. I did not realize, prior to this, that the language was not complete. You have to do SO much research to get it right and make up words and learn what endings mean what and dear god, I could not figure out the grammar. You all have my eternal respect.
> 
> Now, with having said that, I leave you with this: Menu sigim bundul. Tan menu selek lanun naman tak xemu (You are all greater than words. May your forge burn bright until next time.)


End file.
